The Coven
by SeriesTherapy
Summary: Is there anything worse than being forced to attend an obnoxious old friend's engagement party? Yes, having to go with Castle. As a couple. Albeit a fake one. Set in season 2.
1. The Encounter

**Chapter 1: The Encounter**

* * *

"Watch out, dude!"

Castle almost tripped with his own feet in his haste to get out of the way of the angry-looking, muscular man that almost sent him tumbling down when they collided. It was the third time that Castle had bumped into someone on the busy sidewalks of New York City that morning. But, to be fair, he was not at fault for his lack of focus. At least, not entirely. Castle blamed Beckett's jacket. Beckett's gorgeous new leather jacket, that accentuated her curves just right and gave her that no-nonsense badass cop look that he was so enthralled with.

She had been wearing a lot of new clothes lately. After her apartment had exploded —and with it, her closet— Beckett had not only updated her wardrobe, but also enhanced it, much to Castle's delight. Not that her previous look didn't suit her, but it was undeniable that Kate Beckett in high-heeled boots, tight jeans and blouses and jackets that wouldn't be out of place in a designer's catalogue was a sight for sore eyes.

They were on their way back from a meeting with a person of interest in their latest case- a corporate lawyer more worried about defending his clients than about finding justice for his sister, who had been murdered the previous weekend. Castle had despised the man from the moment his eyes landed on his perfectly tailored three-piece suit. It hadn't helped matters that the lawyer had seemed extremely interested in getting into Beckett's pants. The way he had leered at her throughout the whole interview had Castle seeing red within minutes. But Beckett, far from being deterred by it, had managed to turn it into her favor, obtaining a key piece of evidence that would most definitely lead them to the young girl's killer. If Castle thought that she was extraordinary before, now he couldn't even find the words to describe her. She was… something else.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked, Castle once again ran into something- a lamp post this time. Glancing at Beckett to see if she had noticed his little incident, he found her trying to hold back a smirk. But if she suspected the reason for his clumsiness, she didn't comment on it.

They were getting better at communicating without words lately. After the serial killer case and the few days Beckett spent at Castle's loft, they seemed to be more in sync than ever. Castle had noticed a slight change in the way Beckett looked at him; in the smiles she dedicated to him after one of his stupid jokes. Before then, she tried to conceal them, but now, she made no effort to hide them. At the precinct, she was still the collected and dedicated detective that he knew and admired, but when they were alone, that façade crumbled in front of his eyes, and he was able to catch glimpses of the woman behind the badge, beyond her duties and worries. In those moments, however scarce they were, Castle could allow himself to dream that someday, maybe they could have a chance of becoming something more than friends. But in the blink of an eye, the image vanished, and they were back to being Castle and Beckett, the two-times-divorced man incapable of taking anything seriously and the police detective too focused on her past to let anyone share her future.

Maybe it was for the best. After all, Castle was not looking for a serious relationship. He was very satisfied with the status quo- following her during her cases and bringing his crazy theories to the table, just to see her smile. They didn't have to spend time together outside the precinct, when they had everything they needed inside it… right? Castle needed to forget how coming back home with Beckett had felt; how good she looked in the morning light, preparing breakfast for his family. It hadn't been real, just a temporary fix born out of necessity.

He needed to get his head back in the game before he could embarrass himself further, or worse, knock into something harder than a lamp post- like a moving vehicle, for instance. He tried to focus. There had to be something he could say to excuse himself. Somewhere in his brain, an innuendo-filled sentence was struggling to break free; he just had to find it. Castle was saved from his efforts, however, by an excited cry, more similar to a squeak.

"Katie Beckett, is that you?"

Startled, he turned to find a petite woman striding decisively in their direction, though somewhat wobbly, due to an impressive pair of five inch stilettos on her feet. The woman exuded authority, and Castle immediately thought that if she were to give him an order, he would rush to do whatever she wanted. That woman exuded authority. She seemed the kind of person with whom you didn't want to get into trouble. He couldn't help but wonder how many reputations owed their demise to her. The closer she got to them, the greater Castle's impulse to run away grew. And maybe he would have done just that, had it not been for Beckett's unsteady voice next to him.

"Trisha?"

Glancing at the detective, Castle was glad to see that his survival instinct didn't differ much from hers. Beckett was standing sideways, without facing the other woman completely, her jaw working silently, her eyes unfocused and her stance one of a fugitive on the verge of taking off.

But before they could react at all, the other woman closed the remaining distance between them and arrived at their side, pushing her blonde hair away from her face with a gracious flick of her wrist, and, without preamble, engulfed Beckett in a bone-crushing hug that was bound to impregnate the detective with the rich and a little dizzying fragrance of her perfume.

"Oh, my God! It's really you! I can't believe my eyes! I wasn't sure when I first spotted you. What are you in, some kind of uniform?" she rambled on without sparing a glance in Castle's direction.

Whoever this woman was, Beckett didn't seem to have recovered from the shock, so Castle jumped in her help.

"She looks lovely today, doesn't she?"

The blonde turned her head towards him in that moment, so abruptly that Castle could barely repress the shiver that ran up his spine. The blonde woman's demeanor changed as soon as her eyes landed on him, though. She looked him over like her sunglasses were equipped with an x-ray machine, and something in him seemed to please her, because her posture softened. She removed her sunglasses and extended a perfectly-manicured hand in his direction.

"I don't think we've met. Hi, I'm Patricia Fitzberger. Or I will be soon," she said, rolling her eyes at herself like her mishap wasn't completely intentional, while she wiggled her left hand so they could see the megalithic diamond that engulfed her fourth finger.

"No, I don't think we have. Richard Castle," he introduced himself, taking her hand in both of his.

"The author?" she asked, appreciatively.

"Guilty as charged." Next to him, Beckett seemed to have recovered from the shock, so Castle deemed safe to bring the attention back to her.

"So, how did you two meet?" he inquired.

" _Katie_ and I went together to Stanford," she offered, stressing the moniker. "Well, at least, until you dropped out, of course," Blondie said, turning back to Beckett. "Why was that, again? A family tragedy of sorts, right?"

"My mother died," Beckett let out through clenched teeth. "And I didn't drop out, I transferred."

"Oh, that's terrific. It's always a shame to see young girls fail in their lives. So, where did you go? Princeton? Yale? Columbia?"

"NYU, and then the police academy," Beckett replied, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly. If this woman thought she could take down his partner, Castle was more than happy to sit back and enjoy the show.

"Police academy? Wait, are you a…?" she trailed off, glancing at Beckett's outfit like she had missed a key element, which Beckett was happy to reveal, setting her leather jacket aside so the blonde could take a look at her badge.

"I'm a detective with the NYPD, yes."

"Wow, that's…" Finally, the woman seemed at a loss for words.

"Awesome?" Castle provided.

"Absolutely," she agreed. Trisha had quick reflexes, Castle had to give her that. "We need people to do that kind of job; not all of us can be lawyers or politicians, right?" No matter how hard he tried, Castle couldn't picture this woman and Beckett in the same room, let alone having a conversation.

"And what do you do, Patricia?" he inquired.

"Little bit of this, little bit of that, you know. Lately, I'm very involved in a couple of charity projects at the Hamptons."

So, a trophy wife. Of course. He had encountered many of those during his years vacationing there. Mostly, they were like vixens, ready to attack at any second. Castle strongly believed that, if they were to bit their own tongues, they would die of poisoning.

"Nice," he said instead. "Well, I guess not everyone can be a lawyer, right?" His comment was rewarded with a slight upturn of Beckett's lips. Blondie seemed unfazed by it, though. Maybe she had a little bit of a politician in her, after all.

"Thank you, Rick," she replied, before turning her attention back to Beckett. "So, Katie, tell me, what's going on in your life? We haven't seen each other in years! Don't hold out on me, dear."

"Nothing much, really." If Beckett was taken aback by Blondie's bluntness, she didn't let on. "I work really hard, and I barely have time for anything else."

"I know the feeling, darling. I'm swamped at the moment with wedding preparations. But I've discovered the trick for a well-balanced life." She paused for dramatic effect, leaning in and dropping her voice a full octave. "Always save a little of time for yourself."

Castle nodded enthusiastically. "What a great truth," he agreed, in a mock serious tone.

"Yes, and that's also the only way to keep a healthy relationship. Men don't like drama, you know? So it's better to keep things simple. I learned that with Albert."

"I'm sure you will be very happy together," Castle chimed in. "Your relationship sure sounds interesting, and full of thrill and adventure."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Beckett's warning glance. Okay, he might have to tone it down a little bit.

"It sure is. Thank you for your kind words. Sadly, not everyone realizes the truth behind that statement. Some people think their job is more fulfilling than a stable and functional home. And on that note, how's your love life, Katie?"

Beckett was left looking like a deer in the headlights, stunned into silence by this woman.

Enough. This woman was too much, and Castle was starting to get angry. How dared she make judgmental remarks about Kate Beckett? Couldn't she see how remarkable she was? So, before the situation could get more awkward for Beckett, he decided to put a stop to it. Or at least, his mouth decided for him.

"Funny you should mention that," he interrupted again.

"Oh, and why is that?" Blondie asked, her interest piqued.

"Next week will be our anniversary. Right, honey?" he provided, stepping closer to Beckett.

Seeing the murderous glare she shot in his direction a second later, he regretted that move very quickly. Trying to placate her, he shrugged, apologetically.

"Is that right?" Blondie continued, oblivious to their non-verbal exchange. "Wow, I certainly wasn't expecting that. Katie doesn't seem like your type, dear. No offense, of course," she chuckled, examining Beckett's appearance once more.

Castle went to answer her, but fell silent when he noticed someone linking their arm with his. He couldn't believe it when he looked down to see that the arm was, in fact, Beckett's.

"Well, we're trying to keep it in the down low, so we would appreciate your discretion," she said, and Castle almost didn't recognize the sweet quality of her voice.

He must have zoned out, gaping hopelessly at her, because he was brought abruptly to the present with a strong squeeze in his arm, in time to catch the end of Blondie's next sentence.

"… delightful! I must tell Albert about this. You should totally meet him. He's a he fan of your work, Rick. In fact, why don't you both come to our engagement party? It's this weekend. I know it's short notice, but I couldn't reach you, Katie, with your little disappearing act after your father's death, or was it your mother? Anyway, I didn't have your number. But you'll come, right? Please, you have to!"

"Sorry, I don't think—" Kate began.

"We'll be there," Castle blurted out at the same time.

"Perfect! Here are the details," Blondie– Patricia, her name was Patricia, he had to remember it—said, pulling an intricately-decorated card from the depths of her Gucci handbag and handing it to Castle.

And then she turned to the awaiting town car, with a parting wave of her hand. "I can't wait to see you again, darlings!"

After he watched the car turning the corner, Castle busied himself studying the invitation, too afraid to face his muse and potentially soon-to-be murderer. Eventually, he looked up, finding Beckett still staring at the point where Patricia's car had disappeared. Blinking twice in rapid succession, she snapped back to reality, fixing him with her best glare.

"What the hell, Castle?"

* * *

 _As always, a huge thank you to my fantastic beta, encantadaa, for all her patience and help with this one._


	2. A Hard Bargain

**Chapter 2: A Hard Bargain**

* * *

The next couple of days passed with a sense of calmness almost foreign to the workers at the Twelfth. They closed the case they were investigating, and the paperwork was done within twelve hours, which meant they could sit back and relax until a new murder made its way to them. However, Beckett was still fuming, recalling their encounter with her old friend. What was Castle thinking, accepting an invitation like that without her permission? Not that she would have agreed, had he asked her. The idea of being in a relationship with Castle, even a fabricated one, was preposterous. It wasn't going to happen. No way.

But Beckett knew he was dead set on going to the party, even if he hadn't said that much about it. For the last couple of days, he'd been unusually quiet and eager to please her in every way possible, from the extra bear claw he'd presented her with yesterday morning to the help he offered with the paperwork. Hell, he had even stopped fumbling with the radio in the car. Part of the reason for his silence, undoubtedly, was his fear of Beckett's reaction if they talked about his betrayal. Well, that was a very strong word. More like… insubordination.

Finally, on Friday morning, on their way to see a suspect, Castle seemed to pluck up the courage to bring up the invitation to the Hamptons party, and what that entitled.

"So… about this weekend…" he started.

"Not going to happen, Castle," Beckett cut him off, her eyes never leaving the road.

If Castle heard the warning in her sharp tone, he ignored it. He turned in his seat, positioning himself in a way that allowed him to face her as much as possible. And that task, given the lack of space inside the Crown Vic, was impressive in itself. When he was settled, he took a deep breath, and after a moment, he spoke again, this time trying a different approach. "Come on, Beckett! Don't you want to wipe that smug little smirk out of her face?"

"I don't need to prove myself to anyone, Castle."

"True... but don't you want to make her realize that her 'perfect' life is nothing but?" Beckett could feel the pleading look in his eyes, even without looking.

"And how am I supposed to do that, genius?" she inquired, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just by showing up. I'm sure she doesn't expect us to actually go to the party."

"That makes two of us," she deadpanned.

"But—"

"We're here," she stated, as she parked the car in front of her suspect's building, effectively ending the discussion.

* * *

Castle was, as Beckett found out that day, nothing if not persistent. Since the conversation that morning in the car, he tried to broach the subject every time the opportunity arose- and even when it didn't. By the end of the day, Beckett was so worked up that she was tempted to say yes, just to make him shut up. They were still arguing while she turned off her computer and started gathering her things to head home.

"Castle, we've been over this for hours. I'm not going to Trisha's party. And that's it," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

"But—" he started, but she wasn't in the mood for any more back and forth.

"Look, if you're so intent on mingling with the Hamptons elite, you can go by yourself," Beckett said with a sigh, tiredness tinging her voice.

"No way! And she was _your_ friend, not mine. It would be considered very rude if you don't go," he offered, quite rushedly. As the day progressed, his attempts had gotten more and more desperate. It would be kind of cute, if it wasn't so incredibly annoying.

"You know? Maybe you're right." At her words, Castle's face brightened instantly. "I should go to the party… by myself."

It was almost comical how fast he could switch facial expressions.

"Are you out of your mind? You want to go to a Hamptons party alone? They'll eat you alive!" he practically shouted, a terrified look in his wide eyes.

"Please," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If they're anything like you, I'm sure I'll manage."

But, truth was, she didn't want to go alone, and Castle knew that too. He must have sensed that she was on the verge of agreeing, so he pushed in a last effort.

"I will bring you coffee every day for the rest of the month!"

"You already do that, Castle," she answered without missing a beat, as she headed for the elevator, the writer on her tail.

"Fine, for the rest of the year. If you prefer, I can make you breakfast in bed…" he suggested, quirking an eyebrow playfully. She only glared at him in response.

"Aaaand I'll do your laundry," he threw out like it was an offer she couldn't refuse, as she stepped into the elevator. The hopeful look in his puppy-dog eyes was almost too much for Beckett, and suddenly, she started to wonder how it would be to spend the weekend alone with him, outside the precinct. She had to admit the image wasn't so bad after all- not that she'd ever admit that to Castle, of course.

Before she could change her mind, she hastily made her offer. "Front row tickets for a baseball game of my choice. And I want you to arrange for my dad to meet Joe Torre."

Castle's eyes lit up in excitement. "Deal," he blurted out, almost bouncing on his toes in boyish glee.

"Pick me up in an hour," she said, trying to keep the smile off of her face as she jabbed the button for the building's garage. As the elevator doors closed, Castle was still standing frozen in the hallway, a huge smile seemingly etched onto his face.

Beckett certainly hoped she wouldn't regret this decision later.

* * *

Of course, Beckett had insisted on driving, even though they were taking Castle's car to the party. However, he had been more than happy to relinquish his keys for the evening. He'd do anything to make her feel comfortable enough not to kill him at the first opportunity she got.

He still couldn't believe that she had agreed to come so readily. Well, so it wasn't exactly easy, but it had only taken him a few tries before she caved. He didn't even had to go to plan B, which was great, because he hadn't come up with one.

For the first part of their journey, Castle had been the picture of confidence, chatting animatedly and aimlessly. As they approached the Hamptons, though, his nerves skyrocketed, to the point that he couldn't stop fidgeting in his seat, which, in turn, had unnerved Beckett, who kept throwing daggers with her eyes in his direction.

Finally, after several minutes of uncomfortable silence, interrupted only by Castle shifting in his seat, they reached their destination.

If he didn't think Patricia was rich when they encountered her earlier that week, the sight of her house made that fact perfectly clear. It was more like a mansion, really, complete with the wide porch, elegant columns, and a huge garden. He was sure that from the large bay windows on the second floor, there would be a magnificent view of the sunrise from the front of the house, and perhaps an even better view from the back- the sunset overlooking the ocean. He was certain that there was a big pool somewhere, too.

A valet hurried from the house to welcome them, but when he tried to open the door for Beckett, she shooed him away with her hand, perhaps with a gesture that was a bit more rude than necessary.

She turned to Castle, taking a deep breath. "Okay, Castle. If we're doing this, we need to establish some ground rules. If you don't follow them, I'll consider my part of this deal fulfilled and I'll go home. With or without you. Understood?"

"I'm not a big fan of rules," he stated slowly, wary of her conditions.

"I've noticed," she muttered, taking a deep breath and throwing a glance to the impressive house.

"Oh, come on, Beckett! Where's your sense of adventure? You don't have to always control the situation," he said cheerily.

"In this case, I do. Otherwise, who knows what you might end up agreeing to?"

Okay, she had a point- this wasn't the first time his big mouth had gotten him into trouble. There was that time with the stripper and the mobster in Chicago… thank God Gina was there to save his ass. Although, in hindsight, the argument that ensued had not been enjoyable at all… oh, and that time with the bicycle and the monkey… that had been fun…

"Castle!" Beckett's shout snapped him back to reality.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"Rules!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

"Right, rules. Well, Detective Beckett, I'm all ears." He made a show of listening to her, sitting back in his seat and crossing his hands in his lap, eyebrows raised in mock anticipation.

"Okay, first of all, no more agreeing to plans without consulting me. Your decisions don't only affect you." When he nodded, she continued. "No touching things, no cute stories, and no pet names."

"Fine. That would have been hilarious, but fine."

"And we're leaving tonight, before dinner," she continued, ignoring his comment.

"Fine by me—wait, what?"

"You heard me, Castle. We will say that Alexis got sick, and that she needs us back at home."

"But that's not fair! The party won't start until tonight, and you want us to miss it completely? We'll spend more time on the road than in the house!"

Beckett raised her eyebrows in disapproval and, rather than answer him, put the car into gear, turning the wheel as if she were about to drive away.

"Okay, okay, okay! Geez, Beckett, way to kill the fun here."

"That's the idea," she said, shifting the car back into park. "Now, let's go inside. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can be on our way."

* * *

Castle was having a blast. Any other person in his situation would have probably found that fact odd, considering the amount of time they had spent standing awkwardly in the lobby, waiting for Patricia, but the expression that was currently on Beckett's face was enough entertainment to make the entire evening worth it. Her brow furrowed in concentration, head cocked to the side and hands twitching, opening and closing in fists, she was having a weird stare-down with an abstract sculpture, probably trying to decide what on earth it represented.

One look at his partner was enough to tell that she was completely out of her comfort zone. Her posture was stiff, almost defensive, and she kept looking around, with what Castle supposed was an attempt of masking how nervous she actually felt. She would probably be able to fool anyone else, but he knew her too well.

Of course, Castle had to admit that the hall where they were standing was beyond impressive, but he knew the world of the Hamptons elite enough to take it as it was: a carefully set trap to make the newly-arrived feel inferior. During his years as a millionaire and a member of the Hamptons elite, he had seen dozens of houses like this. Yes, the black and white tiled floors created a beautiful contrast with the curves of the wide staircase that connected with the second floor; and the paintings and sculptures that crowded the space wouldn't be out of place in an art gallery, but Castle was sure that the whole thing was designed by professionals, with the only purpose of causing a powerful first impression. It wasn't just a first glance at the house, but also its owner's life.

This was just another variation on the same entryway he'd seen dozens of times- substitute a Rembrandt with a Van Gogh; change the carpeting on the staircase from white to cream; replace the sculpture halfway resembling a spaceship with a tall vase containing an arrangement of exotic flowers- they were all the same. The theatrics of the room had no affect on him, and he found it much more entertaining to study his companion, who was completely lost in thought while she examinated the sculpture.

Of course, their hostess was taking her sweet time in coming to greet them, but that was also part of the game. That way, they would have enough time to be overwhelmed by the demonstration of power surrounding them and to worry about what they would say and how they would act as soon as she showed up. Castle wasn't too preoccupied about that; he never followed a plan in his social interactions and he wasn't the least bit worried about how rich and influential their hosts were.

Beckett, on the contrary, obviously felt completely out of place. In the few minutes they had been waiting, she had tried to fix her hair with her hand twice, despite the fact that every strand was lying perfectly in place, and she seemed intent on pulling on the hem of her white shirt to the point of making it grow at least a couple of inches. Not to mention the way in which she couldn't stop shifting her weight from one leg to the other, a motion that couldn't be comfortable in the heels she was wearing- higher than usual, if Castle wasn't mistaken.

Her behavior puzzled him to no end- he'd never seen her nervous like this before. Until this point, she was always so collected and confident in front of him, even in the face of the most despicable and crafty criminals in the city. He couldn't help but wonder if what had thrown her off balance was their current environment- so different from the precinct- or the idea of having to pretend to be in a romantic relationship with him.

Oh, yes, Castle was definitely going to make the most of this situation. There was nothing more satisfying for him than pulling Beckett's pigtails and the sweet victory of beating her in her own game. That was the reason why he was so thrilled about the possibility of being her made-up boyfriend- just to drive Beckett crazy. Nothing more. There was nothing romantic about it, and he didn't expect to achieve anything. He knew exactly what his relationship with Beckett was and where the limits were. She made sure to clearly define those boundaries every single day.

After several minutes of contemplative silence, their hostess finally honored them with her presence, and she didn't lose the opportunity to make a big entrance, stroding elegantly towards them, on top of a pair of bright red heels that matched her cocktail dress.

"Hello, dearies! My apologies," she trilled, waving her hand in apology. Nobody let me know you were here."

Ah, the Hamptons; there was always someone lower in the social structure to blame.

"Patricia, hi! Don't worry about us; we were admiring your beautiful pieces," Castle answered, gesturing toward the horrendous sculpture.

The blonde woman hugged them in turn, effusively declaring her joy upon seeing them standing awkwardly in the lobby.

"It's so wonderful you could come!" The excitement in Patricia's voice made her sound just like a kid at Christmas, and Castle had to work to keep his face even, not letting a smirk betray him.

"We wouldn't dream of missing it," Beckett answered with a kind smile, without a trace of her previous nervousness. "Are we late?" she asked, signaling the double doors through which Patricia just made her entrance. It appeared that those doors led to a garden, from where a distant cacophony of voices, music and laughter was making its way to them.

"Not at all, not at all!" Patricia reassured. "Some of our friends arrived this morning. Well, in fact, you're the last ones," she added, with an exaggerated chuckle. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it."

"We would have come earlier, but we had to work," Beckett pointed out, a smile still plastered on her face, and Castle felt the urge to do a little victory dance at her use of the word "we".

"Of course! You're right on time. But don't stay there! Allow me to show you the rest of the house." While she talked, Patricia led them through a wide hallway to their left that ended in a large living room, as big as the whole homicide floor of the 12th. A spectacular sunset could be seen through its windows.

"Nice view," Castle complimented.

"Thank you, Rick," the woman gracefully accepted, "but you haven't seen anything yet. This way, please," she said, guiding them through the double doors that led to the garden.

* * *

Beckett's head was spinning. The house was spectacular, but its magnificence had little to do with her predicament. The tour of the property was coming to an end, after nearly half an hour of listening to Patricia's uninterrupted babbling about the perfection of her house, her fiancé and her so called job, sprinkled with more than a few jabs about Beckett's "ordinary" life, as the blonde woman so kindly put it.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with ordinary, dear. If nobody had an ordinary life, how would we tell apart the interesting ones?"

Throughout the entire tour, Beckett had to keep repeating to herself that punching her old friend in the face was not going to get her anywhere. At the end of the visit, though, she was so riled up that she was ready to pounce.

Castle must have sensed that, because suddenly he started to palm the front of his suit, extracting his cell phone from the pocket a moment later. At the others' questioning glances, he excused himself.

"Sorry, it's on vibrate. It startled me." Looking at the screen, he frowned. "Excuse me, I have to take this. It's Alexis," he said, giving Beckett a meaningful look before he retired down the hall in search of some privacy.

He must had inherited some of Martha's acting genes, because Beckett had seen the black screen of the device pretty clearly, indicating that there was no such call. Patricia, next to her, seemed unaware of that particular detail, thankfully. She felt a surge of gratitude towards the man. He knew how to follow instructions, after all.

"It's his daughter, Alexis," Beckett felt like she needed to explain. "There's nothing more important to him than her."

"I see," Patricia said in a knowing tone.

"What?" Beckett questioned, genuinely confused.

"Well, it's clear that his mind was somewhere else all this time. Now I see his priorities. Forget me darling, but he didn't strike me as… committed to your relationship."

"What do you mean?" Beckett let out through clenched teeth. Patricia's declaration stung, for a reason she didn't want to analyze just yet.

"Oh, it's probably just in my head, darling. Don't worry about it." After a short silence, Beckett thought the conversation was over, but she was mistaken. "I just didn't see any chemistry between you two," Patricia added, sighing wistfully.

Beckett's mouth dropped open. How dare Patricia say that? She and Castle had chemistry. Crazy chemistry! Everybody said so. Not that she cared, of course. This woman just had the ability to get on her nerves. That's the excuse she told herself when she heard Castle's steps behind her, and something possessed her into pronouncing her next words.

"Everything okay with Alexis, Rick? Is she having fun at Paige's?"

"At… Paige's? She's not… I mean, what do you… er… well, she's…" He fumbled with his words, utterly confused. It was kind of cute, actually.

Beckett turned her attention back to Patricia, a gentle smile on her face."Alexis is with some friends for the weekend," she lied. "That's perfect, isn't it? That way, we can spend all weekend here."

"Fantastic!" their hostess squeaked, clapping her hands in excitement. "Oh, I'm so _elated_ that you're here! This is going to be such a fun weekend, isn't it?"

Patricia continued babbling, elaborating on all of the _wonderful_ things they could do together over the next couple of days, and Beckett turned to look at Castle, who was frozen in place, a look of total confusion on his face. She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him, resisting the urge to laugh as he slowly trailed after them, shaking his head slowly.

If staying meant that she could find at least a couple of occasions to render Castle speechless and leave that dumbstruck look on his face, so be it. Maybe he was right. She needed to have more fun. And she had just found the way.

* * *

 _Thank you so much to everyone that has read, reviewed or followed. It means a lot. And as usual, thank you to my beta, encantadaa._


	3. Game On

**Chapter 3: Game On**

* * *

From the moment they stepped out of the house and set foot in the garden, Castle hadn't left Beckett's side- not even for a second. Every time she thought she'd be able to slip away, or lose him in the crowd gathering in the garden for drinks before dinner, he caught up with her in no time, trailing behind her like a puppy. And boy, was he enjoying himself. The writer was introducing her to anybody willing to listen as his girlfriend, with a proud smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It took all of the effort she could muster to not slap the goofy grin off of his face every time the word "girlfriend" came out of his mouth.

Had Beckett been amongst friends, things might have been different, but unfortunately, that was not the case. Castle knew nearly all of the people in attendance, which put Beckett at a clear disadvantage, and at least half of the women in the crowd were making goo goo eyes at him, which wasn't helping her to calm down. Luckily, it wasn't a large crowd, with only about thirty people there. At least Beckett had that working in her favor.

At some point during the last half hour, Castle's hand had found the small of Beckett's back, and had stayed there very consistently. She tried to resist at first, shaking his hand off of her back as subtly as she could manage. Castle, however, was intent on his purposes. The moment she finally managed to free herself from his gentle touch, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She couldn't do anything without drawing unwanted attention back to them, so instead she worked on keeping a straight face, despite the anger she could feel boiling inside of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Patricia studying them. She didn't want her to see through their charade, and the woman already seemed suspicious. So, remembering Patricia's words from earlier, she decided that the woman was right: they had to step it up a notch, her own rules be damned.

It was very rewarding, seeing Castle's reaction when she started to reciprocate his advances. The first time she tilted into him, leaning into his side until her hips brushed his, he could barely suppress his little jump of surprise. And later, when she put her arm around his waist, he started babbling like an idiot. Perhaps this dinner could be fun after all.

Beckett was pondering the potential benefits of running her hands down Castle's chest in front of the most boring guests yet, just to make him squirm, when she saw Patricia sauntering towards them. It was too late to escape, so she stood her ground when the elderly couple stepped away and their spot was claimed by their host.

"My, my, don't you look dashing?" she exclaimed in greeting.

Beckett took a quick glance down at her clothes; she hadn't changed since the tour earlier. She wasn't wearing work attire, exactly, but looking around, she realized how she might seem out of place; her combination of dress pants and white blouse a stark contrast with the fashionable dresses of the guests in attendance. Was that a jab at her? One could never know with this kind of people.

"As you do, Patricia," Castle replied, acting more put together than Beckett felt, especially with his hand still resting on the small of her back. "But I have to say that I'm surprised. I thought your husband-to-be would be by your side. How come he's not hot on your tail?"

Patricia's jaw twitched for a second, and when she answered, her tone was forced. "Albert is stuck in a very important meeting. He won't make it tonight, but he sends his most sincere apologies."

There was a pregnant pause, in which Patricia swallowed hard, her gaze to the ground.

"Well, I'm officially impressed with this party. Congratulations on your hard work," Beckett offered, trying to move the conversation along. It seemed to do the trick, because Patricia's chin raised again and the light was back in her eyes.

"It was hard work, indeed. It didn't help matters that both the florist and the catering service got lost on their way here this afternoon. It was chaotic," she said with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes and making a dismissive gesture with her hand. "And they had the nerve to try to blame it on me! They said I had given them the wrong address. As if I didn't know my own address!"

"Oh, yes, I have the same problem all the time," Castle conceded. "I have a property here as well. A little down the road, actually. The names of these roads are very confusing, if you're not from this area."

Beckett tried to mask her surprise by sipping at her champagne flute. She had no idea that Castle owned a house in the Hamptons. She could have guessed it, though. The man was rich, that much was clear, but until that moment, it hadn't come to her mind that he might own more than one property.

"Exactly," Patricia agreed, excitedly. "But, thankfully, it all turned out okay."

"More than okay," Castle nodded. "This is fantastic."

Beckett narrowed her eyes at him in warning. He'd better remember whose side he was on. He deflated a little next to her, then turned back to Patricia.

"But, um… I was expecting a larger gathering, to be honest," he said.

"That's tomorrow. Tonight, only our closest friends were invited," the blonde explained. Castle turned to Beckett with a puzzled look, undoubtedly confused as to why the two of them had been included in that select group. It wasn't a surprise to Beckett, but she wasn't about to share that part of her past with Castle. Besides, knowing him, he would discover the truth soon enough.

"I'm so glad you're here, Katie," Patricia continued in a soft voice, resting a hand in Beckett's arm for a second, before turning to leave.

"What was that about?" Castle asked as soon as their hostess was out of earshot, but Beckett ignored him. Something in their brief exchange had left her with a strange feeling, like she was missing a small detail. Then it hit her. Of course! Why didn't they think about this sooner?

"Castle! Your house!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"What about it?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"We'll sleep there. It's the perfect solution!"

"Eh, no, it's not," he scoffed.

"Why not?"

"Because it'd allow you the opportunity to hide. I won't let that happen," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, raising her voice. Around them, people shot them curious looks, so Castle hooked his arm in hers and led her further away from the crowd, never losing his smile.

"I'm completely serious. I was ready to get us out of this mess, but you chose to change your mind at the last minute. Remember _Alexis's_ call?"

"What?" she asked in disbelief, unable to form a more elaborate sentence.

"Besides, I'm enjoying watching the vein in your forehead grow" he added. "It's more fun to wait and see how long it takes you to explode than spend the weekend hiding in my house." And with that, he went chasing after a waiter for another drink.

Beckett let out a huff. The nerve of that guy! _Okay, two can play this game,_ she thought. If Castle thought he was going to drive her crazy, he was in for a surprise.

* * *

As soon as it was announced that dinner was ready, the guests followed their hostess to the backyard, where a large table was beautifully set, between a big ornamental fountain and a balustrade overlooking a fantastic garden, which merged with the beach in the distance. The whole setting was illuminated by torches, infusing the night with an almost magical atmosphere.

"Shall we?" Castle asked, giving a pointed look at the table in front of them. She gave a quick nod in response, and he brought his hand to her back, resting it between her shoulder blades, flashing her his best "book jacket" grin. Taking a deep breath, she squared her jaw and led the way.

They walked all the way down one side of the table, then almost all the way back up the other side, before locating their seats, indicated by the ornate name cards placed at each setting. Beckett let out a sigh of relief when she realized that they were seated on the opposite end of the table from Patricia. Castle must had realized that, too, because his face lit up with a grin. Their joy over that realization was short-lived, though, because one look at the card directly across from Castle's confirmed that they had to share their end of the table with one of the cougars that had been devouring Castlewith her eyes from the moment she saw him appear.

Castle wasn't helping her calm down, with his perfect gentleman's manners. He pulled her chair out for her, then seated himself, keeping a respectable distance between them. He was trying to unnerve her, changing gears so suddenly that it was making her slightly dizzy. It was infuriating! She hated not to be in control, so she had to do something about it, to throw him off balance.

Placing a hand on his knee under the table seemed like a good place to start. She was immediately rewarded, as the simple gesture caused him to choke on air in the middle of a sentence. Everyone around them shot them amused looks, letting Beckett know that the gesture hadn't gone unnoticed. Castle, in retaliation, rested an arm on the back of Beckett's chair, barely grazing her shoulders as he scooted himself closer to her. Game on, then.

The guest sitting to Beckett's right, a young man with a perfectly styled hair and a smile so standard it had to be artificial, turned towards them.

"You two make a really cute couple," he complimented. Beckett was torn between her annoyance at his comment and the satisfaction of watching the girl who was devouring Castle with her eyes make a face of disgust. Next to her, Castle nodded politely. "How long have you been together?" the man asked.

"One year exactly. Well, almost. Our anniversary is this weekend," Castle explained with more enthusiasm than needed, in Beckett's opinion.

"Oh, really? What a coincidence! Congratulations!"

"What day exactly is your anniversary?" the woman in front of them chimed in.

"It depends, really. If you count our first date, then on Sunday. But if you count the first time we had-"

"On Sunday," Beckett interrupted. "One year on Sunday."

"Best year of our lives, right honey?" Castle said, running his hand down Beckett's shoulder and giving her arm a little squeeze.

"Right, babe," she answered, eliciting a chorus of "awws" and "aren't they cute"s from the people around them.

The smug smile on Castle's face had to go. It was time to bring the heavy artillery. "But you can't imagine how long it took for me to agree to date him… Ricky has the worst flirting tactics I've ever seen! Seriously, he's like a nine-year-old."

The man sitting to Castle's left looked interested, so Beckett leaned towards him over a mortified-looking Castle, as if she were sharing a secret, although she spoke at a normal volume, so that everybody could hear her.

"Well, for starters, he pretended that I didn't exist. Every time I entered a room he was in, he would start talking to whoever was there but me. I guess he wanted to seem indifferent. And he would have succeeded…" she paused to maximize the effect of her next statement, "if he didn't sweat so much!"

Around her, Castle's arm tensed, and the laughs around them grew in intensity.

"Seriously, it was like a fountain" she continued. "It made me wonder if he had some sort of perspiration problem. In fact, that was what our first conversation was about. I remember I told him-"

Much to her chagrin, her story was interrupted by the arrival of the waiters with the hors d'oeuvres.

"Great! The food is here," proclaimed Castle, a little louder than necessary. "Wow, I'm starving."

While the rest of the guests focused their attention on the food, Castle glared at Beckett, who had to resist the urge of sticking her tongue at him. One point for Beckett.

* * *

During the rest of the meal, they continued to throw verbal punches at each other, disguising them as cute anecdotes and comments, each of them more embarrassing than the one before. Castle's arm didn't leave the back of Beckett's chair once, though. He didn't seem to mind eating with his left hand, but Beckett was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. By the time the waiters served dessert, the heat radiating from Castle's arm felt like it was scorching her back, making her sweat as much as he did in her fictional story. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Over time, their stories had been getting dangerously closer to the truth, with Castle narrating their supposed first night together.

"Do you know what was the last thing she said to me before we went to sleep? She told me, 'I will let you know, Mr. Castle, that I sleep with a gun.'" At this point, everyone in the table was in stitches, and Castle was on a roll. "I was horrified! Of course, that explained a lot, like the fact that she hadn't had a serious boyfriend in quite some time. They must have been terrified!"

Beckett launched a counter-attack by sharing with the table how speechless and paralyzed he had been the first time he saw her in an undercover operation speaking with a Russian accent.

Patricia's toast interrupted the story of how Beckett owned Castle's complete works, tagged as "From the library of Katherine Beckett", and how that proved that she was a megafan. Beckett was going to kill Ryan and Esposito for that one.

On the other side of the table, Patricia thanked them for attending the party, and announced a day full of surprises for tomorrow. After that, the guests stood up and scattered into smaller groups. Much to Beckett's surprise, Castle declined an invitation to go play poker with some of the youngest men and helped Beckett out of her chair.

"Thanks, man, but I'm beat. Maybe tomorrow. I think I'm gonna head upstairs. Are you coming, sweetie?" he asked, turning to Beckett with a forced smile and tired eyes. Apparently, the charade was taking his toll on him as well.

"Yes, baby. Thank you," she said, taking the arm he offered her.

"Right, you have an anniversary to celebrate, don't you?" one of the men closest to them teased. Castle reacted by winking at him conspiratorially. Beckett, for her part, wasn't capable of muster even the tiniest of smiles.

That did it. She was finally ready to explode.

* * *

As soon as he opened the bedroom door, Castle realized they had a more urgent problem than a bit of gossiping. There was only one bed in the room. Of course, he had noticed that before, but he had pushed the problem aside, focusing instead on driving Beckett crazy. Until then.

He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room, pondering what their next step could be, but Beckett didn't even hesitate. She strode to the bed, took one of the blankets and a pillow and turned back to Castle, extending them towards him.

"Goodnight, Castle," she said flatly.

He reached for the items without thinking about it, totally taken aback by her actions. "Excuse me?" was all he could think to ask.

"Since it's your fault that we have to sleep in the same room, I think it should be me that gets the bed," said Beckett, disappearing through the bathroom door, her pajamas in hand.

Castle made quick work of changing his own clothes, slipping on his plaid flannel pants just in time before Beckett reentered the room.

"And where do you suggest I sleep, Beckett?" he questioned with a serious expression.

"That rug seems comfortable," she replied, gesturing with her head towards one corner of the room.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor, Beckett," he stated.

"You should have thought about that before," she shrugged.

"Before what?"

"Before refusing to spend the night at your place, where I assume you have more than one bed, or even a couch!" She was starting to raise her voice, and Castle counted to ten before he responded, hoping to keep this argument from escalating even more.

"This isn't my fault, Beckett," he pleaded, trying to get her to calm down.

"Oh, no? Who accepted the invitation in the first place, without even consulting me?" She hadn't looked him in the eye in that whole time, too busy arranging her belongings on one of the nightstands.

"Right, I screwed up, I'm sorry. But to be fair, you agreed to come, and I could have gotten us out of this mess a couple of hours ago, but you decided -without asking me, by the way- that suddenly, you wanted to stay." He was getting flustered, his speech becoming fast and inarticulated.

That seemed to do the trick. Beckett turned to look at him, seemingly at a loss of words.

"So don't blame it on me, Beckett, because I'm not able to know what's going on in that mind of yours," he continued, more and more annoyed by the second. "Hell, you don't seem to know it yourself!"

"If being in my company is that hard for you, why were you so intent on coming?" she yelled back at him.

"I thought I was doing you a favor."

"A favor?" she asked in disbelief. "Forcing me to spend two days with people I despise? I'd rather stay at home, alone. That way I wouldn't have to put up with your nonsense!"

There was a beat of silence, before Castle spoke again, softly this time.

"Nonsense? I wasn't the only one pretending down there, Beckett."

"Really? I've seen you very comfortable around your friends, _Ricky_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"If you wanted to come to the party to rub elbows with the jet set, you didn't need me. In fact, I'm a nuisance," she stated, narrowing her eyes.

"I didn't come here to spend the weekend with them, Beckett."

"Then, why were you so determined to come?" she inquired, raising her hands with an exasperated sigh.

"For you! I just wanted to spend time with you outside of the precinct!" he practically shouted.

"That's why you forced me into accepting an invitation I would have never accepted in a million years? So I cannot say no to you? I'm not one of your bimbettes, Castle. I'm not going to fall to your feet just by spending a little while in your company."

"I've never thought that…" he started, but was interrupted by Beckett's rant.

"Look, why don't you go back downstairs? I've seen the way the other girls looked at you during dinner. Who knows, Castle? Maybe you could make the best out of the weekend, after all," she all but spat at him.

Castle didn't say one more word. He walked to the bed, took all the pillows and the covers and retired back to the rug. When he passed her, he said in a low voice. "I thought that after two years, you knew me better, Beckett. Obviously, I was wrong. Sleep well."

He settled on the rug as comfortably as he could. On the other end of the room, Beckett did the same in the bare bed, curling her legs into her chest and laying her head awkwardly on her arms. He felt a momentary pang of guilt at the sight and considered giving her at least one pillow and a blanket, but the cold emanating from the floor made him reconsider. With every deep breath, he could feel his anger fading away, only to be replaced by a profound hurt.

That's what happened when you pushed Kate Beckett too far. You ended up sleeping on the floor like a kicked puppy.

* * *

 _Once again, thank you very much for your reviews and kind words. I don't have to reply personally to all of you, but they're much appreciated :)_

 _And I said it before, but it's worth repiting: thank you so much to L (encantadaa) for her help with this story._


	4. The Vixens

**Chapter 4: The Vixens**

* * *

The morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, allowing a stray ray of sunshine to land on Beckett's face. That lonely ray of sun was enough to make her open her eyes, and she found herself curled in a corner of the bed, tightly clutching the thin blanket draped over her. She stretched her aching muscles, rubbing a hand at the back of her neck in an attempt to release some of the tension from her shoulders.

She'd been in and out of slumber all night, spending more time restless than asleep. Every time she'd opened her eyes, she'd seen Castle's sleeping form on the rug, and was instantly flooded with guilt from her actions the night before. But closing them did not help, either, because the moment they slipped shut, all she could see was Castle's face, his affection for her showing so clearly in his eyes as his declaration from the night before played on a loop in her brain.

 _I just wanted to spend time with you outside of the precinct._

Beckett had spent the majority of the night trying to force the image out of her mind, but no matter what she did, she couldn't erase his words from her mind. They were tormenting her, forcing her to consider issues she wasn't ready to face just yet.

She rolled over with as little motion as she could manage and peeked over the edge of the bed, trying to see if Castle was still in the room. Beckett felt like a child spying on her parents, a sensation that was amplified when her eyes landed on Castle, still sprawled on the rug and hugging his pillow as if it were a teddy bear.

Looking back at it now, Beckett knew that it had been much easier to get angry at Castle last night than to admit to herself the reason why having to feign a relationship with him got the best of her. And, if she were being truthful, she liked the feeling of being his girlfriend much more than she was willing to admit.

It was far too early in the morning for her to be thinking about these things, though. Convincing herself that she would feel better after a cup of coffee, Beckett showered and dressed in record time, tiptoeing out of the room before Castle could wake up. As soon as she entered the spacious kitchen, she spotted the coffee machine, instantly drawn toward it like it had some magnetic pull. She hadn't taken more than two steps when Patricia materialized in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Good morning, darling!" How the woman could be so chipper at this time of day was beyond Beckett. Patricia didn't seem to take the hint in her groan of response, because she kept talking. "How did you sleep?"

"Not very well, actually," Beckett answered honestly, keeping her eyes on the coffee machine. Her mouth was watering at the prospect of caffeine, and she took a single step to the side, hoping to pass by her friend. "So, if you'll excu…"

"Yes, I'm sure arguing can have that effect on people," Patricia interrupted, mirroring Beckett's movements to block her path once again.

With those words, Beckett instantly forgot about the coffee. "I'm sorry?" she stuttered.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. I wasn't spying on you, of course. My bedroom is just below yours, and the walls here are really thin," Patricia assured her. "Apparently, Albert's grandfather thought it was too expensive to pay for good materials, so it is what it is. We've been thinking about changing that, obviously, but with the wedding preparations… But anyway, what is the problem? Is there anything I can help you with?" For an instant, a flash of real concern crossed Patricia's features, which didn't make any sense- if the woman had actually heard their argument last night, she had to know that they had been lying to her the whole time.

"I thought you heard us last night," Beckett frowned in confusion.

"I did, but I couldn't make out any words," Patricia explained, her eyes dropping to the ground for a moment before she looked back up at Beckett with expectation.

"Oh, nothing serious, don't worry." Beckett kept her tone light, trying to deflect the question. "It's just been a stressful couple of weeks, that's all."

"Ah, I have exactly what you need," Patricia declared with a bright glint in her eyes, practically bouncing on her toes. She allowed a dramatic pause, and Beckett felt the apprehension beginning to form in her chest. "A girls day out!" her host exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

And just like that, the apprehension turned into horror.

Patricia continued her explanation of the day's activities, but none of that chatter registered with Beckett- not until she heard her friend's plans for the men. "The boys will do… boy things, I guess. Albert hasn't arrived yet, but he didn't want anyone to miss the fun. Come on, you can be apart from your boyfriend for a morning, can't you?"

Beckett found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between spending the day with Patricia and her obnoxious friends or facing Castle… tough call.

Her musings- and Patricia's babbling- were interrupted by Castle's arrival in the kitchen, bags under his eyes and rubbing his shoulders. His eyes landed on Beckett for a second, but just as fast, his features hardened, and he turned on his heels and made a beeline for the coffee machine. Decision made for her, Beckett turned to Patricia.

"I'll get my purse."

* * *

Rick Castle was no stranger to hangovers. His years of book release parties as a best-selling author had taught him how to survive even the worst of them. But even they hadn't prepared him for that morning. On a scale from one to ten, with ten being awful, the feeling churning in his guts would be off the charts. And alcohol wasn't even involved.

He didn't sleep more than two hours last night, too busy tossing and turning on the dusty rug that smelled like naphthalene. At least he had all the blankets- except the one he had thrown over Beckett after she fell asleep (he wasn't _that_ stone-hearted)- and all the pillows, so the cold hadn't been an issue.

No, what had kept him awake all night was the feeling- the certainty- of having pushed Beckett too far. She had snapped last night, and he was sure she didn't mean even half of the accusations she had thrown his way. He certainly didn't mean everything he'd said.

Castle was angry, yes, but it was more than just that; he was deeply hurt, and sad. Sad over what now would never be, over the loss of a potential relationship that he was sure could have been the greatest thing in his life- besides his little girl, of course.

That's why, when he entered the kitchen after the shortest shower in history, he couldn't bring himself to face Beckett. He knew he should be angry with her, but she had looked so… guilty, hopeless, like a child who knows they've done something wrong. Judging by the look on her face, he could tell that the guilt was gnawing at her insides, so for once in their relationship- or whatever it was they had- he was the one to avoid her gaze. For the first time, he'd been the one to choose to run, to defend himself.

And, of course, Patricia had picked up on his body language, and soon came his way, like she was on a mission. Thankfully, Beckett had disappeared back upstairs.

"So, Rick, Katie's telling me-" she animatedly began.

"Not now, Patricia." She visibly recoiled with his words, and he chastised himself for his lack of tact. "I'm sorry. I just didn't sleep very well, but that's not an excuse… Please, forgive me." With that, he left her there, darting away before she could start talking again.

While he poured himself some coffee in a desperate attempt to shake off his daze, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. He'd thought a weekend pretending to be a couple would be fun, but as usual, he had ended up screwing it up big time.

Over the past year, he had come to realize his feelings for Beckett were much stronger than he thought. At first, pursuing her had been like a challenge; a game. He wanted to see how long would Beckett be able to resist his charm. The cat-and-mouse chase that happened prior to a relationship was always fun, but honestly, it had never been as thrilling with anyone else as it had been with Beckett. The give and take with her allured him just as much as the prospect of being with her. It was their game, and they were pretty good at it.

However, the Dick Coonan case- and the very real possibility of losing her- made him open his eyes, and he finally realized that a single night with Beckett would never be enough. If he was honest with himself, Castle had to admit that, deep down, he had been aware of that fact since the night she told him about the watch adorning her wrist and the necklace concealed underneath her clothes. The serial killer case had only served to solidify his feelings for her.

In the end, it had taken a whole evening of pretending to be her boyfriend to make him fully open his eyes and see what had been in his heart for a really long time.

He was more than just halfway in love with Kate Beckett, and if he wasn't careful, he could end up pressuring her too much and losing her forever. That's why, when the men invited him to spend the day with them, he turned down the invitation in favor of staying at the house or strolling down the beach to reorganize his thoughts.

* * *

Beckett had never missed Lanie as much as in that moment, surrounded by harpies who exuded both money and venom, shopping for a dress that she couldn't afford to attend a party her nerves wouldn't tolerate.

They had been in every single boutique of the commercial zone of the Hamptons, each one more expensive than the previous. Patricia had insisted on buying a new outfit for that night's celebration, declaring that she didn't have anything "glamorous" enough in her closet. Beckett hadn't realized that the dinner would be a black-tie event, meaning that all the clothes she brought would be of no use. That was the problem of last-minute packing, especially without expecting to stay all weekend. She had enough clothes, yes, but nothing that could be worn to a fancy soiree.

So she had tried on every dress that she found on the sales racks in the stores, but none of them had caught her eye. In the last store, however, right as she was about to throw in the towel, she spotted the perfect one. It was a short, black, strapless dress, not very elaborate, but elegant in its simplicity. It wasn't too over the top, and it would serve her purposes just fine. The tag had more numbers that she would have liked, but it would be worth it just to see Castle's face when he saw her in it.

She instantly scolded herself for thinking that. Buying an outfit just to taunt her partner was a dangerous thing to do, and that wasn't enough rationalization to purchase an expensive dress she'd likely never wear again. Just as she was about to place it back on the rack, she heard a voice in her head that sounded just like Lanie telling her-–no; _demanding_ her—to get the dress. So she didn't question herself any further, folding the dress over her arm and taking confident strides toward the cashier.

Later, when even their credit cards looked tired, the group went to lunch together. The party was made up of a total of twelve women, all of them except Beckett cast from the same mold, from the tips of their Jimmy Choos to the beauty salon hairstyles, not to mention their perfect manicures and magazine-worthy outfits. Beckett wouldn't feel more out of place if she were hanging out with a gang of junkie bikers. At least with the bikers, she'd probably be able to find a topic of conversation that didn't give her a headache.

Beckett had desisted from learning the names of her companions three boutiques ago, so to tell them apart, she had numbered them in her head in order of toxicity. That way, the stunning brunette who didn't cease to make cutting remarks about how she couldn't understand that a man like Castle was in a relationship with a cop was Vixen #1. The redhead who looked a little like Meredith and who had spent all dinner the previous night stalking Castle- to the writer's horror- was Vixen #2. The list went on until the most harmless of them all, a lady who hadn't made any comment about Castle, but had criticized Beckett's eyes for not being "green enough." She was, by default, Vixen #11.

The women might as well have been speaking another language- this world of riches and brand names and lavish parties was so foreign to Beckett, she couldn't possibly understand what they were talking about. Rather than try to follow the conversation, she focused on the meal- some sort of seafood soup with a French name- not making eye contact with anyone in the hope that no one would speak to her directly. Unfortunately, she could feel Patricia's eyes tearing a hole in her skull, not missing a single detail of what was going on. Finally, at some point in the conversation, the blonde woman decided to involve Beckett in it.

"You know, Katie is a little off today. There's been some trouble in Paradise with Rick, so she needs our help," Patricia announced, to Beckett's dismay and horror.

Automatically, all of the women around her started to cluck, offering advice and stories about their own relationships. As much as she despised such invasion of her privacy, Beckett recognized Patricia's attempt as an invitation to their "club", in which the truth shone behind the perfect life façade, and all of them helped each other to rant and rave about the unfairness of their comfortable life. Even Patricia shared some of her story and frustration towards Albert, who was yet to show up at his own engagement party.

The conversation then focused on the commodities they all had and the "problems" they had to face, like rogue butlers, nannies who enjoyed partying a little too much, or workaholic husbands who tried to compensate their lack of attention by splurging money on expensive gifts, which did nothing to placate their greedy wives. The more they told her, the more Beckett realized that Castle was as out of that world as she was- that he was a normal person, and that the millionaire playboy image was nothing but that, an image.

"Rick is not that bad, you know," she intervened at some point of the conversation, tired of the other women's bad judgements of him. "Actually, he's very sweet."

"How so?" one of the Vixens asked.

"Well, he brings me coffee every morning," Beckett offered.

"In person?" asked Patricia, disbelief in her tone.

Beckett nodded. "Of course."

"How romantic!" Vixen #11 squealed, causing Beckett to rethink her name. Maybe she wasn't so bad, after all.

"Are you kidding me?" Vixen #3 intervened. "That tactic could use some work. I mean, if he had it delivered, with a special breakfast and a note, that would be romantic. In person? It seems to me that the only reason he does that is because he gets bored at home."

Beckett felt the pressing need to grind her teeth, but she didn't do or say anything. It would be of no use to explain to these women that a personal relationship couldn't be based on checks or expensive gifts. A gesture as simple as bringing her a cup of coffee every morning said more than she had come to think until then. It was true that Castle could hire somebody to fetch her latte.

But that wasn't his goal, Beckett realized. Castle _could_ stay at home. After all, Beckett doubted that he needed to spend all those hours in the precinct to write his books. Castle went to the 12th to be with her. And he made the effort of waking up early every day and going to a coffee shop to buy Beckett her favorite beverage, just because he knew that made her happy. How had she not noticed how meaningful that small gesture was until then, seeing it through the eyes of a bunch of witches?

One of them that, judging by the botox signs on her face, refused to accept her age, intervened in the conversation. "The simple gestures are cute, no doubt, but they're not enough, if you ask me. Has he done anything big to let you know that he cares? That's the real question," she added, a wistful tone in her voice.

Even in her haze of indignation, Beckett still felt the need to defend Castle. "When my apartment exp… when I had to temporarily leave my apartment," she corrected, not wanting to let these women know what had actually happened, "he let me stay at his home, with his family."

"Family?" Patricia inquired.

"Yes, his mother and daughter."

"Ugh! And he made you put up with them?," Vixen number whatever said.

"Yeah, with the kind of money he has, he could have booked a suite for the two of you," Vixen #11 chimed in. "Instead, he makes you stay with the daughter. _And_ the mother! What a douchebag! And I'm not even going to ask why he still lives with his mother."

 _Okay, now she is officially Vixen #1_ , Beckett thought.

The more she heard, the more Beckett realized it was useless to try and have a civilized conversation with that coven of witches. Honestly, if they were incapable of understanding the relevance of someone literally opening the doors to their home for them, Beckett felt sorry for them.

For a moment, she wondered how Castle was able to put up with being included in such a group. But of course, Castle was not really a part of that had the money, yes, but it was what he decided to do with it that defined him in the end. With his name and his bulky wallet, he could easily make his way into a gentlemen's club like the ones the husbands, fiancés or boyfriends of the ladies clucking around Beckett frequented. Instead, he prefered to spend his time shadowing her- a nobody; just a simple cop. It was true that Castle enjoyed the police work with a child-like enthusiasm, because it allowed him to become the protagonist of his childhood fantasies, but Beckett had started to wonder if he wasn't neglecting his real job because of that. When did he find the time to write? When he wasn't at the precinct, it was because Alexis needed him with her. His first priority was his daughter, but where did writing fit into his life? Considering the amount of hours he had spent the previous year at the 12th, it was a miracle he was able to finish _Heat Wave_ on time.

No, Castle wasn't like the rest of snobbish millionaire boys that Beckett hated so much. In fact, most of the time, she didn't even notice the scale of his fortune. If she was thinking about his wealth now, it was due exclusively to their location. She often felt inadequate in comparison with the millionaire author, but being with him in the Hamptons- and not just with him; she was in the company of the heirs of the biggest fortunes on the East coast- made her feel more out of place than ever. She did not belong here, at all- not with these riches, and certainly not with these people.

What felt like hours later, the conversation finally died down around her, and Patricia stood up, reading the atmosphere at the table and taking her cue.

"Girls, as much as I'm enjoying this outing, I think we should head back to the house. I'm sure our men are dying to see us."

Thank goodness. Not even the most painful of torture sessions lasted forever.

Patricia's announcement was received with a chorus of giggles, coupled with a few exasperated sighs. "I truly envy single girls sometimes," Vixen #5 declared, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "They have no idea of what we, the normal people, have to put up with!"

Even though the women were being every bit as annoying as usual, Beckett felt a smile blossoming on her lips. Of course, she was glad to be getting rid of the Coven for a couple of hours, but she couldn't deny that she was itching to see Castle again. Her talk with the Harpies had made her see at their relationship from another angle, opening her eyes to how good she actually had it, and she now felt a warm sensation when she thought of him.

 _Fondness_. That was it. At first, Castle had been a thorn in her side; some annoying idiot who made her life harder. But over time he had become her friend, and Beckett was not ashamed to admit- at least, to herself- that she was quite fond of him. As for the rest of her feelings for Castle… she would find a name for them later.

She was still mulling over these thoughts when they finally pulled up to the house, only to find Castle sitting on the porch stairs, waiting for her with a worried expression on his face. His eyes lit up momentarily when he spotted her, but quickly fell again, and he averted his eyes to the ground, running his hands nervously through his hair.

Beckett climbed out of the car, leaving the other women behind, and fought the urge to rush straight to him, walking slowly in his direction instead. When she stopped in front of him, she hesitated, but when his sad eyes found hers, she stopped doubting herself and sat down next to him. Neither spoke for a moment, and the silence stretched around them as Beckett struggled to find the right words. In the end, she decided to let her actions speak for her and reached out, resting her hand on Castle's knee. For a couple of seconds, Castle remained completely still, staring wide-eyed at her hand. Beckett's resolve faltered slightly, but only for a moment- before she had time to fully second-guess herself, Castle's hand came to rest atop hers. With the simple gesture, every rational thought was banished from her mind, except the realization of what an idiot she had been up until that moment.

"Thank you," she muttered, glancing up at him.

"For what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"For being you," she shrugged, releasing his hand and standing up.

He let out a surprised chuckle as he rose to his feet. "My pleasure."

"Listen, about last night…" she started, her eyes searching his as she trailed off. "I'm sorry."

She realized with a start that they'd spoken the last two words in unison, and they shared a soft smile. Before the moment could get any heavier, Beckett broke their eye contact, dropping her gaze to the floor. "No, Castle, listen… I'm really sorry. You were right, you're here for me… and because of me. And I'm truly sorry for the way I treated you."

"Beckett, you were right to do what you did. I chose to be here, and I pressured you to attend this horr…" he trailed off, flashing a wide smile as the Vixens passed them by on their way to the house, trying not-so-subtly to eavesdrop. A shudder racked Castle's body when the Meredith-lookalike winked at him, and Beckett found herself laughing out loud. That didn't seem to please the woman, who shot her a dirty look as she sashayed her way into the house.

"Anyway, I pressured you to attend this horrible party, even when I knew you didn't want to come," Castle explained. "The truth is, I just thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know you better. I was selfish, and I'm sorry. You have every right to be upset."

But she wasn't upset. Not anymore, at least. It was true that his easy acceptance of Patricia's invitation made her see red, but Castle wouldn't be Castle if he did what was expected from him. Now, she was only looking forward to the end of the weekend, when they could be back to normal.

So she just held her arm out for him. "Friends?"

His expression brightened instantly, and she was rewarded with the most genuine smile she had seen in his face. She couldn't help but return his gesture, beaming while she linked her arm through his, allowing him to lead the way inside the house.

"Friends," he nodded.

* * *

 _I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: thank you so much for reading, for your comments and words of encouragement. And especially, thanks to encantadaa for her beta work._


	5. Party Boy

**Chapter 5: Party Boy**

* * *

Beckett couldn't help but stare at her reflection in the mirror, gaping in wonder at the stranger staring back at her. The new dress hugged the curves of her body perfectly, and the open back allowed the chilly night air to caress her skin, sending goosebumps down her arms. Her hair was carefully styled so that the gentle curls skimmed the tops of her shoulders and framed her face. Her cheeks were a healthy shade of pink, but that had nothing to do with the fact that she was wearing more makeup than usual. Something about this dress made her feel powerful, in a way that her high heels and gun never had, and in the artificial light of the bathroom, her eyes sparkled as she wondered what Castle would think when he saw her cross the door to the bedroom. Would he see Beckett, the tough-as-nails detective, or Kate, the ordinary girl behind the badge? That thought made her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink, so she tried to push it from her mind, taking a deep breath and turning towards the door.

When she entered the bedroom, she spotted Castle next to the window, apparently lost in thought as he stared outside. After their fight the night before and their tentative conversation when she had returned from her shopping trip with the Coven, both of them had been unusually shy around the other, as if they had reached a delicate balance and they didn't want to fall to either side. But, considering their history and the nature of their relationship, Beckett was sure they would stumble in one direction sooner rather than later. The only question was if they would be able to find their equilibrium again afterwards or they would crash definitely.

All of her musings and worries left her mind the moment Castle caught sight of her reflection in the window. He turned around slowly, his mouth dropping open almost comically, and his eyes widened for a second before he could react. His gaze roamed over every inch of Beckett's black dress, and more importantly, to the parts of her body not covered by it.

Normally, she'd say something to him when he looked at her that way, but tonight, she chose not to comment. For once, she was happy to let him have this moment. After all, getting a reaction from him had been her goal when she chose this particular dress. When Castle's eyes returned to her face and found her knowing smile, he snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself.

"Shall we?" he said, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual as he gestured for her to exit the room ahead of him.

A faint trace of his cologne wafted through the air as he followed her down the hallway. The rich smell triggered a flood of unwelcome thoughts about exactly how attractive Castle was in his tuxedo, the sleeves of the jacket hugging his arms just tightly enough to show off his biceps…

She snapped out of her reverie when she nearly tripped at the top of the stairs. Chastising herself for her teenage ways as she steadied herself, she offered him a smile and led the way down to the first floor.

Once they reached the foyer, she felt the lightest of touches against the back of her hand, and she tried unsuccessfully to suppress her smile. The next time that Castle's hand brushed against hers, she allowed the contact to linger enough to link her pinkie finger with his. That move seemed to boost his confidence, because he disentangled their fingers to take her whole hand in his instead. Beckett's smile was impossible to hide at this point, and she found that she didn't want to conceal it. So she turned to Castle, who was sporting a matching grin, and opened her mouth to say something, anything.

Of course, that was the moment Patricia chose to appear in front of them. Like a shark drawn by the scent of blood, Patricia seemed to sense their impending moments of intimacy and plan her strike just so that it interrupted them.

"Well, well, well, don't you look dazzling?" she greeted. Patricia was wearing a long, sparkling green dress. On its own, it was beautiful, but the fact the woman had paired it with bright red heels made Beckett want to cringe.

"Rick, darling, don't you think she looks beautiful?"

That was the last thing Beckett needed; Patricia fishing for compliments for her. And from Castle, no less. When was the weekend going to end?

"She looks positively radiant, indeed. She steals my breath away every time I look at her," Castle answered. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he had no problem making that confession, and judging by the look in his eyes, he meant every word he'd said. Beckett's cheeks flushed, and her hand twitched in his grip, but he didn't let go, squeezing it reassuringly instead.

"Of course, of course," Patricia said, seemingly bored with the conversation already, as she looked around the room, presumably in search of her next victim. "The party is in the backyard. You know the way, right?"

"We do. Thank you," Beckett responded, tugging at Castle's hand in an attempt to get away as soon as possible. She had already had enough of Patricia for the day.

As they stepped through the patio doors and into the backyard, they were faced with what looked like hundreds of people milling about, making the previous night's dinner seem like an intimate event. There were dozens of high tables scattered around the space, and waiters were making the rounds, providing everyone with appetizers the size of a baby's thumb. Why did rich people always feel the need to serve the tiniest portions of food?

The increase of people in attendance meant that Castle knew even more people than the previous night. Beckett was hoping that they'd be able to go straight to their seats at the table without speaking to anyone, but it seemed that they couldn't even make it five feet without stopping to greet one of Castle's acquaintances. She prepared herself for the worst each time one of the guests stopped next to them, interested in engaging in a conversation.

The old man at their side now looked as though he'd be the worst of the lot, judging by the way he was fixating on Beckett- on her body, rather- with a creepy stare as he spoke. Clearly, Castle wasn't the only one who thought the dress looked good on her.

"Wow, Ricky, you certainly have an impeccable taste in women. Who do we have here?" the older man said, keeping his eyes fixed on Beckett.

"Carter, how are you?," Castle greeted, seemingly unfazed by the way the man was staring at her. "Allow me to introduce you to Detective Kate Beckett, my inspiration."

After a brief conversation, they left the man behind, and she raised her brow at Castle in silent question.

"What?" he asked. "I didn't say muse."

She could only smile at him.

The rest of the night progressed in the same way, with introduction after introduction to people Beckett would certainly never remember the names of. Unlike the night before, he didn't present her as his girlfriend, but rather as his partner and inspiration, infinitely more reverently than she could've had imagined.

Their physical contact throughout the night was tentative and not at all smothering. Every graze of their skin sent sparks through Beckett's limbs, and the goosebumps ended up being a constant feature in her arms. After dessert, Castle noticed and gallantly offered his jacket, which she accepted.

Around them, the other guests were raising from their seats and heading towards the open bar, where several members of the Coven were standing and scanning the crowd, looking for victims. She didn't feel like joining them- she and Castle were having such a great night, and she didn't want other people to ruin it. And after her conversation with the Vixens that afternoon, she needed to spend some time with Castle, to remind herself that he wasn't part of _that_ world; that he was as much as an outsider as she was.

"Castle…" she started, feeling the nerves taking residence in her stomach. She had to swallow to finish the sentence, her throat dry all of a sudden. "Would you… ah… Do you want to see the beach? I mean, take a walk? With me?"

 _What's wrong with me?_ she thought. It was like she was a middle school girl with her first crush all over again. She felt like a babbling idiot. She wanted to hide in her- their- bedroom and never come out again, at least not until it was time to leave this horrible place. His response prevented her from running, though.

"I would love to."

* * *

As soon as they reached the shore, they got rid of their shoes, deciding to carry them in their hands while they strode aimlessly down the beach. It was a peaceful night; the crashing waves the only sound discernible in their vicinity. But something was nagging at Castle.

"Hey, Beckett, can I ask you a question?" he ventured.

She chuckled. "Since when do you ask for permission?"

"Good point," he conceded. "So… you and Patricia?"

"Yes, Castle?" she asked in that tone she always used to pretend she was reprimanding him.

"What's your story? How did you two meet?"

To his surprise, she laughed at him. "It took you long enough to ask."

He was liking this carefree version of Beckett, so different than the hard-willed detective he saw every day at the precinct. So instead of pressing her, he just shrugged, waiting patiently for once.

Beckett continued walking, staring in contemplation at her toes as they dug in the sand with every step. After a few moments, she spoke, her voice so low that he could hardly hear her over the sound of the ocean.

"We met in Stanford," she started. "We both were pre-law students. I wanted to be just like my parents, and Trish just wanted hers to be happy."

Already enthralled with her tale, he nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"We were roommates, and we didn't get along very well. I guess we were too different. I was still a rebel teenager only interested in defying the rules, and Trish was the good girl. It didn't help matters that she was intent on calling me Katie. No one but my dad has called me Katie since I hit seventh grade," she recalled with a soft smile, turning her eyes in his direction. "Don't even think about calling me that, by the way."

He brought a hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Oh, Katherine, I'd never." She gave him a soft laugh in return.

"Anyway," she returned to her story. "I was very popular among the young men, and I had a couple of boyfriends that would have prevented my dad from sleeping ever again, had he met them."

The thought of Kate Beckett with "bad boy" boyfriends was so unimaginable that he missed a step and tumbled forward.

"You okay, Castle?" Her teasing tone did nothing to calm his racing heart.

"Yeah. Sorry. You were saying?"

"I was very popular, but Trish wasn't. She was the poor girl everybody made fun of. She dated a guy who treated her like crap. Trish fell head over heels for him, and he returned the sentiment by sleeping with just about every girl on campus. I knew he was doing it, but Trish refused to believe me. She only wanted to think the best of him. One night, I saw him with another girl, and I put an end to it."

"How?" Castle asked, a thousand scenarios crossing his mind. Beckett only gave him an enigmatic smile in return.

"After that," she continued, "my relationship with Trish improved, until the point we became joined at the hip. She even visited me in New York that Christmas…"

She trailed off, the smile disappearing from her face as she came to a halt. Castle was almost afraid to ask her about it, but luckily, she saved him the trouble, her voice almost a whisper.

"All that ended in January. After my mother… died, I abandoned Stanford without looking back. I returned to the city and turned my back on the rest of the world. I didn't have any friends left from high school, and I ignored the ones from college."

"You never saw each other again?" he asked, lowering his voice to match hers. She jumped visibly at his words, almost as though she'd forgotten he was with her.

"No. Not until this week. She tried to contact me, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Why?"

"The Katie Beckett that Trish knew died alongside her mother, and I didn't like the person who replaced her."

The pull to gather her in his arms was almost unbearable, but somehow Castle managed to stay still. If there was one thing he knew about Kate Beckett, it was that she needed space. The fact that she was trusting him enough to tell him this much was incredible on its own.

"When I saw her the other day, with her triumphant air and the perfect life, it made me think of the life I could have had. It's not like I would have liked to be rich like her, but I didn't enjoy the way she, someone who once was my equal, rubbed what I could have had, but never will, in my face."

So _that's_ why she'd been so resistant when Patricia made her offer to join the party for the weekend. Everything made sense now. She felt inadequate in comparison with her old friend. Couldn't she see that she was ten times better than the other woman? Every single person who had ever met Kate Beckett had fallen at her feet, including Castle. He saw it every day, in the way her coworkers pushed themselves harder just to try to reach her level, or in the fierness of Ryan and Esposito's brotherly love. The impact Kate Beckett had on other people's lives was beyond any influence money could provide. She was a source of inspiration for everyone in her life. She was extraordinary.

After a few moments of silence, he dared to speak, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"She's not better than you, you know? None of them are," he said, signaling with his head to the mansion behind them.

Beckett just looked at him dumbfounded, as if he was speaking a different language. She had never been good at accepting compliments, so he pressed on.

"And you could have it."

"What?" she asked, a look of confusion in her eyes.

"All of that. You are a great woman, a hard worker, a… a force of nature! And I believe you could achieve anything you set your mind on. The dream life. The house in the Hamptons." He paused, then decided to take the plunge. "The millionaire boyfriend."

When their eyes locked, the air around them suddenly felt charged with electricity. Castle didn't dare to move; he didn't want to risk losing the moment, but he didn't miss the tiny step she took in his direction.

His eyes dropped to her lips, his hands twitching on his sides, longing to touch her, to hold her. Her hands raised an inch...

And then an explosion resounded across the beach, followed by a flash of blinding light.

 _Of course they have fireworks_ , Castle thought bitterly, cursing internally.

They turned in tandem to see the blasts coming from a boat out in the sea, and he took the step he didn't have the courage to earlier, crowding her back and resting a hand on her hip as a way to test the waters. To his utter surprise, Beckett leaned back against his shoulder in response. He took that as a positive sign and banded his arm around her waist.

The added motion seemed to take her by surprise, and she was still, almost rigid. For a moment, Castle thought that she was going to take off, and he began to silently panic, afraid that he'd overstepped his boundaries. But instead of making him take a step back, she relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. Castle wrapped his free arm around her waist, completing the embrace, and they stayed like that for a long time, watching the explosions of color that matched the fluttering of his heart.

And in that moment, Castle wondered how he could have been so blind not to see that he was definitely in love with Kate Beckett.

* * *

It had been forever since he last time Beckett had felt so comfortable, so safe and cared for. If someone had told her even three months ago that the person responsible for that feeling would be Rick Castle, she would have scoffed and added one of her signature eye-rolls for good measure.

But in that moment, watching the last sparkles of the fireworks in the refuge of Castle's arms, enveloped by his warmth and scent, she couldn't find it in herself to step away. Even after the last echoes of the explosions faded in the distance and they were surrounded by silence and darkness once again, she stayed still, leaning into his chest.

After a few seconds, it was Castle the one to make the first move to put some distance between the two of them. He cleared his throat and took a step back,dropping his arms from around her waist and letting them rest against his sides. The look on his face was almost sheepish, like he expected her to scold him for his behavior.

That was the furthest thing from her mind, though.

"Want to go back to the party?" she asked, fighting a laugh as she watched Castle's face visibly relax.

"If we must," he answered rolling his eyes in a dramatic manner.

She couldn't fight the laugh this time, allowing herself to giggle at his antics. After a moment, she shrugged off his jacket, extending the garment back to him.

"Thank you," she said, dropping her head so that her hair would hide her reddening cheeks.

"Don't you need it anymore?"

"No, I'm fine. We're heading inside, anyway. And you must be freezing," she reasoned.

"If you're sure," he muttered, taking the jacket from her and putting it back on.

Beckett couldn't help but admire his broad chest and the flex of his muscles at the simple movement, and she felt her cheeks flame even more when she looked up and found him watching her, his piercing blue eyes twinkling in mirth.

Shockingly, he didn't comment on it, instead offering her his arm to guide her back to the party. Relieved, she slipped her arm through his and scooted closer into his side, relishing the warmth his body exuded in the chilly night air.

As they stepped back into the gathering, Castle pulled away from her, his eyes looking around the open area until he spotted the bar.

"I need a drink," he announced. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll come with you," Beckett said. She was hesitant to leave his side, especially given the sort of people in the crowd tonight.

But Castle insisted she stay put, declaring he'd fetch both of their drinks so that she could take a seat and wait. Before parting to fetch them their beverages, he gave Beckett's hand a little squeeze.

"I'll be right back."

She stood there, smiling softly to herself as she watched him make his way to the open bar, her hand tingling and senses still overwhelmed after their walk down the beach. Beckett wasn't prone to introspection, as she made her way to a nearby seat to wait for Castle's return, she found herself reflecting on her life choices.

The last time Beckett had opened up her heart to someone, he had moved to Boston and left her behind. She had lost enough people already, and she wasn't willing to allow herself to go through something like that again. The next time she chose someone, she would make sure he was loyal and trustworthy. It was either that, or keeping one foot out the door at all times, to prevent herself from getting too attached to someone who was just going to leave. Those were the only two options.

That's why Castle was a risky candidate. Beckett was beginning to realize that she had some sort of… feelings for him. Oh, who was she trying to fool? She'd had a crush on Castle since the day they met, and within the past several months, those feelings had begun to turn into something very close to a four-letter word that Beckett had banished from her vocabulary long ago. She had never met anyone with whom it was so fun to argue, or who made her work feel like an adventure instead of a chore, and who was so different yet so similar to her at the same time.

And the last couple of days had shown her that maybe he felt something for her as well. But Beckett knew that, if she opened the door for a relationship with him, it would never just be casual. She would fall for him, hard, and he would just leave her as soon as a better opportunity arose- that opportunity being an offer to write a certain British spy, for example. She didn't want to risk it, but still, her mind wouldn't stop conjuring images of how her life would look if she allowed Castle to be a part of it.

The weekend at the Hamptons was playing tricks with her mind, expanding her imagination to the possibilities. For instance, how would this party be if they really had attended as a couple, rather than just pretending to be romantically involved? Would they focus their efforts on making fun of Patricia and the rest, or would they spend more time trying to get to each other's nerves? Would Alexis be with them? What would she feel if Castle introduced her to his friends as his girlfriend, for real? If the butterflies in her stomach served as any indication, that last scenario held an unmistakable appeal to her.

But, how long would it last? Castle was notorious for his flings. Walking into the precinct a few months ago to find him with two models posing as cops, thoroughly enjoying himself as they hung all over him for a photoshoot, was proof enough of that. New images started to fill her mind, unbidden, and so powerful that they erased the previous happy thoughts. Beckett sitting alone in her apartment, crying over a newspaper picture sporting Castle and a supermodel as arm candy. Not being able to go to her favorite bookstore out of fear of catching a glimpse of his name on one of the shelves. Ryan, Esposito and Lanie's pitiful looks…

The risks were too many, but still...

"There you are, Detective!"

Beckett turned around when she heard the voice calling out for her, and she cursed her reflexes when she spotted one of the Vixens approaching. Unfortunately, it was too late to pretend she hadn't seen her. She nodded her head politely and looked away, figuring that, if she ignored the woman, she would continue slithering through the party. Beckett's eyes inevitably landed on Castle, as if they were drawn by a magnet. He was next to the bar, waiting for their drinks, when a man patted his back in greeting.

"Oh, yes," the Vixen trilled, reclaiming her attention. "It was a matter of time before he hit the open bar."

Beckett ignored her attempts at engaging her in a conversation, still focused on Castle at the bar. The man was talking to him now, and Castle was listening, a polite smile on his face.

"These parties are Ricky's favorite. Actually, we met in one of them. He was single at the time, of course. Not that it has ever mattered to him, anyway," the Vixen continued. Beckett could only roll her eyes. "I know you don't know him enough, darling, but let me tell you, it's a matter of time."

Much to her chagrin, Beckett took the bait.

"A matter of time before what?" she asked, turning to fix the woman with a look of annoyance.

"Before Ricky the Party Boy makes his appearance."

Beckett snorted in response.

"You don't believe me? Just you wait and see. Back in the day, a party was not complete until Ricky pulled one of his stunts."

"I find that hard to believe." Beckett didn't know why she felt the sudden need to defend him, but she was doing so anyway, fighting about his character with a woman who had known him much longer than she had.

"Why? Because you've _domesticated_ him?"

"No. Because I _know_ him," she shot back, "and despite what all of you may think, he's not like any of you."

"Oh, but he is," the woman chuckled. "Believe me. I've known him for years, way longer than you have. I won't deny he's more calmed now, but this kind of event tends to get out of hand when Ricky is around. Luckily, the press tonight is more focused on poor Patricia and the notable absence of her fiancé."

"Look, whatever-your-name-is," Beckett spat, beginning to see red. "I know Castle. He's always getting into trouble, I won't deny that, but he would never draw attention to himself by putting on a show during someone else's engagement party."

A loud clatter resounded in the space, drowning out the end of her little speech. Beckett immediately turned, her eyes roaming wildly around the open space in search of the source of the commotion. To her dismay, she spotted Castle standing at the bar, hands fisted at his sides, while the man he had been talking to wobbled, grabbing the bar for support with one hand and his cheek with the other. On the floor next to them laid a tray and several broken champagne flutes, that must have fallen off of the countertop during the dispute.

After a second, Castle snapped out of his reverie, looking around, almost startled to see the rest of the guests staring at him. When his eyes found Beckett's, the anger was prominent in his irises, but she could also see regret and… was that sadness? A moment later, shame took over his expression. He started in her direction, but before he could take another step, the Vixen whispered in Beckett's ear.

"See? I know Ricky better than you do. After all, he's one of us."

Beckett didn't say a word in response. She just turned on her heels and left the party, dodging judgemental whispers and pointed looks on her way out.


	6. Ghosts From the Past

**Chapter 6: Ghosts From the Past**

* * *

She needed to get out of there, and fast. Beckett could feel every eye in the room following her as she darted out as quickly as she could, and the erratic beat of her heart was almost deafening in her own ears. Turning left down the first corridor she encountered, she stumbled across what looked like an empty room. The lights were off, so the risk of running into someone in there was low. She entered and closed the door behind her, resting her forehead on the cool wood surface, letting free the breath she was holding in her chest.

"Rough night, huh?"

The voice at her back startled her so badly that she bumped her forehead on the door. Turning around, she spotted a familiar figure in the shadows.

"Patricia?"

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the room, she was able to discern the wetness coating the other woman's cheeks. She approached her carefully, afraid that Patricia would bolt or ask her to leave.

"What's wrong?" Beckett asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Patricia murmured, turning away from her and letting her hair fall like a curtain to hide her face from Beckett.

"Trish… I know it's been a while, but you still can talk to me. I will listen. I promise."

"Don't worry, Katie. I'm okay. You can go back to the party," Patricia said, a little sniffle at the end of the sentence giving her away.

Beckett couldn't fathom the idea of leaving her crying alone, so she pressed on. "Come on, Trish. It's me. I won't judge."

"You'd be the only one," Patricia scoffed. Beckett took that as an invitation to talk, so she sat on the couch next to her and rested a hand on the other woman's knee tentatively, still afraid she would scare her away.

"What happened?"

"Nothing special. Just the usual scrutiny," Patricia said, turning slightly towards Beckett and allowing her to see her face for the first time since she sat down. Her eyes were red, and moisture coated her cheeks. "Albert is not here, and that got people gossiping. I can't fault them, really. I know I would be doing the same, if it were another person on the other side."

"Where is he?" Beckett asked in a near whisper.

The blonde woman just shrugged in response, and they fell silent for a couple of minutes. The only noise in the room was the distant murmur of voices from the party and the ticking of a pendulum clock in the corner. Finally, Patricia broke the silence.

"I'm not happy, Katie. Not really," she admitted. "From the outside, it might seem like a perfect life, but in reality, I'm lonely. My friends are measured by what they can get from me. If I were bankrupt or victim of a scandal, they would scamper away faster than I could say my own name."

Patricia's gaze was directed towards the large windows covering one of the walls as she spoke, her glazed eyes staring ahead. She was so absorbed in her tale that she didn't even acknowledge Beckett sitting beside her. For her part, Beckett didn't want to interrupt. Patricia looked like she could use someone to listen to her, and she was happy to be that person for her.

"My fiancé would rather spend his free time at his office in the city than with me. He goes on more and more business trips, especially on the weekends, and I've caught him more than once on the phone with his secretary outside of working hours. And they weren't discussing work, if you know what I mean."

Patricia snapped back to reality with those words and looked at Beckett, smiling sadly at her. "You know? I never finished my degree. I met Albert when I was 21, and I went from living out of my parents' fortune to living out of his. I didn't need to study anymore. Marrying him became my only goal. When I do that, I will have nothing else, except maybe children that would be raised by their nannies while I have tea with my bitch friends."

"Trish…" Beckett began, but trailed off, at a loss of what to say. Seeing her old friend hurting like that was breaking her heart, and she felt like nothing she could say would make it better for her. Patricia only offered a tight-lipped smile, then continued talking.

"I've only been this unhappy once before; in college, when the only person I fully trusted betrayed me. In both occasions, I felt like I had hit bottom. And both times, you were there," she said, looking straight into Beckett's eyes.

"I haven't done anything," she started to protest, but Patricia didn't let her.

"You're here," she stated, her voice calm. "When I saw you the other day, it was like a sign that I had to make a change."

"You overestimate me, Trish. I didn't do anything but abandon you," Kate said, feeling the guilt weigh down on her. "I'm very sorry for how I treated you back then. I truly am."

"You were hurting," Patricia dismissed with a wave of her hand. "And don't sell yourself short."

Beckett snorted and dipped her head, trailing her eyes to the floor, but Patricia startled her by taking her hand, regaining her attention.

"You will never know how much you helped me back then," she continued, her tone insistent. "You made me open my eyes and realize that I had to fight my own battles; that I didn't need anyone if I was strong enough. It looks like I've forgotten that lesson," she finished, averting her eyes to her lap

"Oh, Trish… You're still that girl. I know that."

Patricia chuckled lightly at that, and a warm smile formed on her lips. This was her friend, not the nosy and uptight woman that she had seen all weekend.

"Nobody has called me Trish since you left Stanford," Patricia said, and Beckett returned her smile. "I was so glad when I saw you the other day, Katie."

Beckett squeezed her hand in response, smiling fondly at her.

"Can you keep a secret?" Patricia asked.

"Of course," she nodded.

"I don't think my relationship with Albert is going to work," she said with a sigh. "I feel like he's just been avoiding me for so long. I mean, he hasn't showed up at his own engagement party, for God's sake!"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Beckett managed, her heart breaking all over again for her friend.

"You know what? I'm really jealous," Patricia said, her tone suddenly bright.

"Of what?"

"Of you and Rick, of course!" she clarified, and Beckett would have laughed if she wasn't so shocked. "You are true to yourself when you're with him. And that's all you can ask for."

Beckett fell silent for a couple of seconds, feeling her head spinning.

"To be honest, the majority of our relationship has been… pretend," Beckett admitted in a low voice, unable to meet her friend's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Patricia asked. Before tonight, Beckett would have thought the woman was just being nosy, but now, she could tell by the tone of her voice that she was genuinely curious.

Beckett didn't want to lie to her anymore, but she wasn't ready to tell Patricia the whole truth either, so she selected her next words carefully. "At first, I pretended to hate him, and he pretended that he didn't care. In the end, though, we couldn't pretend anymore and had to accept the truth."

"And what truth is that?"

"That we're good for each other," she whispered, hardly believing that the words were coming out of her mouth.

Who was the person who had just spoken those words, and where was the Kate Beckett she used to be? She could feel herself blushing, and she started to fiddle with her hair, putting it behind her ears in a self-conscious gesture.

"Then what are you doing here?" Patricia asked softly. "You should be next to him, not listening to me complaining about my sad life."

"Truthfully, I needed to get out of the party," Beckett revealed. "Too much venom in the air. Your friends are going to drive me insane."

Patricia laughed. "Tell me something I don't know." Suddenly, she turned serious. "Kate, you've always been good at reading people. I'm not surprised you ended up being a detective."

Beckett's eyes shot to hers, finding nothing but honesty in them. "Don't let yourself be blinded by my friends," Patricia continued. "It's nothing but a front. If you look carefully, you'll see what's underneath, and that is rotten."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Beckett was making her way through the party again, dodging the harpies and looking for any sign of Castle. Finally, she found him sitting in a hammock in the catering area, surrounded by a frenzy of waiters. As she approached him, he spotted her and jumped to his feet.

"Beckett, I'm sorry."

"I'm not here for that," she answered, dismissively. He looked at her, puzzled.

She took a deep breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am," he said, gesturing to his right hand, covered by an ice pack. "You're not mad? You seemed angry before."

"I just want to know what happened. Who was that?"

"He was… a ghost from my past. I shouldn't have punched him. I'm sorry." He winced, so she took his hand in hers and examined his knuckles, still looking an angry shade of red.

"That was a hell of a punch, Castle. Does it hurt?"

"A little, but the ice has helped."

"That's good," she said, gently releasing his hand. "Look, I don't want to pry. I respect your privacy, but if you want to talk about it… I'm here," she offered, wondering internally when had she become everyone's confidant. If anyone sucked at honest conversations, it was Katherine Beckett. But she couldn't stand there and do nothing while the people around her suffered, so listening to them was the least she could do.

After a moment of silence, in which Castle seemed to ponder what to say, he started.

"The guy was Pierce Murphy. He's a film director."

"I haven't heard of him."

"I'm not surprised," he chuckled. "He's only successful in his own mind. Meredith was in one of his movies, a few years ago. It was back when we were married."

His story had only just begun, but already, Beckett had a feeling where this was going.

"It was a difficult time. Alexis was little, barely two years old, and Meredith wasn't around a lot."

"Where was she?" Beckett asked.

"Discovering herself," he shrugged, making air quotes with the words. At her puzzled look, he continued. "Apparently, after having a child, it's too easy to get lost in their needs and forget your own, risking you losing your own personality and forgetting who you are. Or at least that's what Meredith read in a magazine, so of course, it must be true."

He rolled his eyes, and Beckett chuckled. "Anyway," Castle continued, "I always stayed at home with Alexis while Meredith was working. And I was happy to do it. I was elated in my little bubble of parental bliss, and I guess I didn't see the signs."

Beckett didn't want to hear more, but at the same time, she was itching to know the rest of the story, the tragic tale of Castle's first marriage.

"One night, I came home early after a book launch party. Meredith had stayed at home with Alexis, because she was still too young to attend, and Meredith hadn't wanted to hire a babysitter for the night. I wasn't supposed to be home until much later, but the idea of a quiet night home with my family was much more appealing than a party. Shocking, huh?"

Castle's attempt at humor fell short, and Beckett couldn't muster even half a smile for him. If she wasn't mistaken, the next part of the story would break her heart on his behalf. His next words confirmed her suspicions.

"When I arrived, Meredith was in our bed, with Mr. Murphy. I froze, I couldn't react, so I went upstairs to check on Alexis. Luckily, she was fast asleep. Meredith and her director didn't even see me. I stayed with my little girl all night long, crying. The next day, Meredith flew to Florida. The divorce papers were in my mailbox a week after that."

He woke up from his stupor, looking around them, seeming to realize just then where they were. "Pathetic, right?" he chuckled.

Beckett realized there were tears in her own eyes. She didn't know what to say. Her heart ached for him, for the way this precious human being was treated by the person who was supposed to be his partner in life. Oblivious to her tears, Castle continued.

"I hadn't seen him since that night. So, when he asked me tonight how 'Alex' was doing, I lost it."

Beckett paused. "Did you get him in the face?" she asked.

"Square in the jaw, I think."

"Good."

Their eyes locked, sadness evident in both their faces, until Beckett broke the silence. "Come on. I'm sick of this party. Let's go to sleep."

"Oh, yes. The prospect of sleeping on the carpet never has never been so tempting," he said in a chipper tone.

Right. Their sleeping arrangements. "About that…" she started, tentatively.

"Yes?"

"We can share the bed. I mean, we're adults, right?"

"Right," he said, his face brightening instantly. "And don't worry, no funny business, I promise," he added, as an afterthought.

"Too bad," she tossed over her shoulder with a sly smile as she walked toward the door.

She turned to see Castle sputtering behind her, paralyzed at mid-step.

"You coming, Castle?"

* * *

Beckett felt like a stalker while she eavesdropped on Castle speaking to his daughter over the phone, her face hidden behind the cover of the book she was pretending to read. His voice was always deeper, richer, when he spoke to Alexis, and his rugged factions seemed to soften as he laughed at something she'd said. Beckett was so lost in contemplation, she didn't realize he was saying his goodbyes until he turned around and caught her staring.

"What?" he asked, seemingly amused.

"You're a good dad," Beckett offered in response, shrugging.

Castle stopped on the other side of the bed, and sat next to her on the covers, careful not to touch her.

"Thank you. That means a lot," he said, his tone sincere.

They spent several seconds in silence, each of them lost in thought, until Beckett suddenly turned to look at him.

"Have you ever thought about having more kids?"

He looked at her, apparently as surprised by her question as she was. She was uncharacteristically talkative that night.

"Where's that coming from?"

"I don't know," she answered, averting her eyes. "I know a lot of divorced people, and a few of them have children from different marriages. I was just wondering if, I don't know, with Gina… never mind, forget I said anything."

"No, it's okay. You can ask me whatever you want."

"It's just that… you're a really good father, Castle. You truly are. And you did it all by yourself. And I can tell you enjoyed every second of it. I guess I find odd that someone so dedicated to family like you are don't have any more children."

 _Where did that come from?_

"Well, it's complicated," he shrugged, not seeming to be bothered by her questions. "Honestly, if I could have, I would have had a dozen children. But with Meredith… Alexis wasn't planned. We never regretted her, don't get me wrong, but Meredith didn't want more children. She didn't want to get even more tied to our family."

He paused for a few seconds, lost in contemplation.

"And with Gina… I guess our relationship was never so serious as to think about it."

"Serious? You were married…"

"I know. But I always kept her at arm's length. I realize that now, of course. At the time, it seemed the natural thing to do. I never let her get too close to Alexis, or to assume a role even remotely similar to a mother. And that undermined our relationship. We never were a family. So we couldn't even begin to think about the possibility of having our own children."

"That's why you broke up?"

"It was the main reason. Our relationship was becoming more and more corrupt by the hour. We argued constantly. She spent most of her days away from home, just to avoid me. She even spent a lot of nights in her old apartment. It worked better for me that way. Every day, I feared the moment she came through the door. I didn't feel safe in my own home. I couldn't relax when she was around. And that affected my writing. It didn't help matters that she was my editor, of course," he added with a humorless chuckle.

"Do you think that was a factor in your divorce?"

Castle looked at her, seemingly at a loss of what she meant.

"Working together, I mean," she clarified. "It's something you had in common, but that ended up pulling you apart."

She wasn't talking about Gina and Castle anymore, and, judging by the understanding look Castle gave her, they both were aware of that.

"Gina and I didn't work together," he said, carefully. "I worked _for_ her. We were never equals. There was no sense of camaraderie. We weren't partners."

The look Castle was giving her was the most intense she had ever seen on his face.

"Do you think things would be different if you had someone like that?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

"Absolutely," he answered without missing a beat.

Their bodies tilted towards each other, their gazes never breaking away, and suddenly, Beckett forgot how to breathe. This was it. The defining moment. The instant where they were going to fall into the unknown, finally choosing a path.

Their lips were inches apart, and she could smell the minty fragrance of his toothpaste; his breath hot on hers. Suddenly, Castle jerked away, turning towards the door and startling her in the process.

"What are you doing?" she asked, resting a hand on her sternum, feeling the wild beating of her heart.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Force of habit. I'm so used to being interrupted, I fully expected somebody to come through that door."

Beckett laughed uncontrollably for a moment, her whole body shaking in mirth at this goofball. Finally, she managed to control herself and raised a hand to his chin, gently turning his face so he was looking at her again.

"No more interruptions," she said seriously.

And she closed the space between their lips.

* * *

 _As always, thank you for your support. Only one more to go..._


	7. In the Light of Day

**Chapter 7: In the Light of Day**

* * *

When Castle opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he noticed was a strand of long auburn hair tickling his nose. His brain, still sluggish with sleep, took a moment to remember the previous night, and he realized with a start that the owner of said hair was none other than Kate Beckett. Slowly, he began to process other small details, like his own arm wrapped around her waist, and her hand on top of his, as if she was trying to hold him in place. Gradually, through the fog taking residence in his brain, he came to the realization that he was indeed _spooning_ Kate Beckett. They were in bed together. True, they hadn't really _slept together_ , but they had shared a bed nonetheless.

After a heated makeout session the previous night, which had left them more than a little breathless, he had suggested that they take things slowly. The look of gratitude she dedicated to him was answer enough, and they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

And now, in the light of day, he felt his fear spiking as he thought about what Beckett would say when she woke up. Their current situation had all the potential to become one of the best mornings of his life… or one of the most awkward.

All of his nervous thoughts vanished from his mind the moment he felt his companion beginning to stir, though. In fact, as soon as she turned and her green, sleepy eyes locked with his, he couldn't think straight at all. Neither of them spoke for a minute, and the world seemed to go still as they both processed the fact that they were in bed together. He didn't know what to expect, and just as he was about to make an excuse to leave the bed, she offered him a lazy smile.

"Good morning, Kate," he said, not able to contain the affection he could hear in his own voice.

He found the blush that stained her cheeks when she heard her first name adorable.

"Good morning… Castle."

"Don't you mean Rick?" he chuckled.

"No. You're Rick to everyone else. You're Castle to me."

"Wow, that almost sounded… cheesy, Detective."

"Shut up. It's too early," she groaned, burying her face in her pillow.

"You're right. I'll let you go back to sleep," he said, suddenly insecure. Maybe the previous night hadn't mean the same for her as it had for him. After waiting that long for a chance with Beckett, he was suddenly afraid that last night was all there was going to be to their relationship. After all, Beckett wasn't known for facing her feelings.

She must have sensed that something was wrong, because she opened one eye to look at him, still keeping half of her face buried in the pillow.

"What is it, Castle?"

"What? Oh, it's nothing," he said, trying to hide his feelings of unease. "Nothing at all. Go back to sleep, Beckett."

"Castle…" she said, lifting her head slightly so she could dedicate him a warning look.

"It's just… I don't know what last night meant to you," he explained, feeling like a schoolboy again. "But we don't have to speak about it right now. Go back to sleep."

"Wait, you're worried that I might regret it?"

"Eh… no," Castle said, although the words came out sounding more like a question.

"If I didn't want anything to do with you, would I be doing this?" she muttered, pressing her lips against his.

"Ehm… I don't know?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Castle."

And she kissed him again.

* * *

The Rolling Stones would be horrified if they could hear what Castle was doing to one of their songs. His voice travelled through the closed door to the bathroom, where he was taking a shower, and made its way to Beckett, who was finishing getting ready to go downstairs. When Castle all but crowed a particularly high note, Beckett couldn't help but smile widely. That man was too much.

She was pulling at the zipper of one of her boots when someone knocked. Curious, she crossed the room and opened the door, to discover a young man in a catering uniform.

"May I help you?"

"Miss Fitzberger wanted you to know that the brunch will be served in thirty minutes," the boy said, nodding his head in a formal gesture..

"If you're here to interrupt us, you're eight hours late," a voice said behind her. Apparently, Castle was out of the shower.

"What?" the boy asked, his brow furrowing.

"Never mind," Beckett answered, laughing and closing the door in the confused boy's face.

She turned, fully prepared to roll her eyes at Castle, her customary response to his jokes, but the sight of him clad in only a towel, drops falling from his damp hair and into his broad chest, disarmed her completely.

At that moment, Beckett finally accepted the name of her feelings for Castle. It was love. In its early stages, yes, but unmistakable nonetheless. And just being able to admit it to herself was a very rewarding feeling. She felt free at last. Free to discover where that "thing" with Castle could take her. They could take things slowly, or they could throw caution to the wind and explore the full potential of their relationship.

And there were better ways of spending their time than worrying about what was to come. So she sauntered towards Castle, almost predatorily, feeling a grin blossom in her lips at the way he started to babble.

"Kate, we have to be downstairs in half an hour…"

"They can wait," she said as she reached for his towel.

They were the last ones to arrive to brunch, but it was _so_ worth it.

* * *

When they finally reached the party, the first person they encountered was Patricia- no surprise there. Remembering their conversation from the previous night, Beckett dedicated a warm smile to the woman.

"Good morning, Patricia. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than some, apparently," she replied, cooly. "Are you feeling okay, darling? I could spot the bags under your eyes from across the garden."

Beckett and Castle exchanged a surprised look. Something was not right. The entire weekend, Patricia had been inconsiderate and self-absorbed, but she hadn't ever tried to purposefully harm them with her words.

"Is everything okay, Patricia?" Castle asked tentatively, taking a step closer to Beckett and resting a hand in the small of her back in what seemed to be an involuntary gesture of support.

"There you are," a well-dressed man said, approaching them. "I was beginning to think you had left me alone with our guests."

"Albert, darling!" Patricia exclaimed, smiling broadly at the man. The expression was obviously forced, though, judging by the way her eyes were a bit panicked, like she wasn't comfortable with who appeared to be her fiancé. "Here, let me introduce you to Katie, an old friend of mine, and her… and the famous Rick Castle."

"Famous? Should your name be familiar?" Albert asked disdainfully, glancing at them for the first time.

Beckett turned to look at Castle, finding him rooted in the spot, completely speechless, and seemingly unable to close his mouth.

"Oh, darling, Rick is a novelist," Patricia explained. "I was telling him just how much we love his books, right, dear?"

Albert shifted his attention back to Castle, and shrugged his shoulder. "Sorry, man. Never heard of you. I never read novels, they're too frivolous for my taste."

At that, Beckett felt anger unfurling inside of her, and risked a glance at Castle, less she say something she would regret later. When she saw him, she barely could hold back a guffaw, though. He was staring at the other man as if he had just said that he liked to boil puppies alive. The writer looked at her, his expression turning to pure resentment when he saw her fighting a grin, and she turned back to Albert.

"Yes, you're right. As a homicide detective, I can assure you that mystery novels are full of clichés and procedural mistakes," Beckett told the man, and she could all but feel Castle's indignation at her treacherous words. Before he could butt in, she continued. "That's why I love Castle's books so much, because of their authenticity. He takes the time to really learn how things are done, and that's worthy of admiration."

Beckett turned to glance at Castle, and the look of gratitude and affection in his eyes was enough to make her feel dizzy.

"Whatever," Albert broke the spell, doing nothing to mask his boredom. "Excuse me." And with those parting words, he got lost among the crowd.

Too stunned to fully process the rudeness of their host, Beckett turned to Patricia, looking for an explanation, and for a moment, she could see a shadow of shame and sadness in the other woman's eyes. But it was gone in a matter of seconds, replaced by a look of disdain.

"Maybe you're too engrossed in your little world of literary romance, and you don't know how a normal relationship works," Patricia said, defending her fiancé. "Not everything is happiness and laughter, you know? You have to make an effort and be willing to put the needs of your significant other before yours."

"I think that relationships are meant to make your life easier," Beckett argued. "The reason to share your life with another person is to find a new happiness that you could never get on your own. If instead of a smile, a relationship puts a frown on your face, I don't see how it's worth it to continue. But, you're right. What do I know, with my ordinary life, right?"

The moment she'd finished her speech, a twenty-something girl appeared next to Patricia. All the people in the Hamptons must have ninja skills, so they could come and go unnoticed at parties.

"Patricia, we're ready for you," the younger woman said.

"That's my cue. Excuse me," Patricia told Castle and Beckett, before walking away with the other woman.

"What's gotten into her?" Castle wondered aloud while they watched her navigating the crowd.

"I don't know," Beckett answered with a deep sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't have snapped. Now she will tell her friends, and I'll be the focus of their gossip in their next coven."

Castle's chortle startled her, and she looked at him questioningly, but before either of them could say anything, a clatter raised from behind them and they turned to see Patricia standing on a podium facing the crowd, a champagne flute in one of her hands, ready to begin her speech.

"May I have your attention, please?" she said, and silence fell among the guests, who were looking expectantly at Patricia, like she was about to reveal the source of eternal youth.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Beckett," Castle whispered in her ear, making her jump, while the rest of the guests applauded politely at something Patricia had just said. "Coven? What do you mean?"

Beckett knew that Castle was trying to distract her from the blonde woman's words about her perfect life, and she felt a new rush of gratitude towards the writer. So, as Patricia gave her speech, Beckett told him in a hushed tone about her outing with Patricia's friends the day before, sparing no details, not even the women's nicknames and the reason behind them.

"Katherine Beckett, you should be ashamed of yourself!" he exclaimed when she finished, appearing affronted.

She looked at him, bemused. She would have thought that Castle would find the funny side of the situation.

"A coven!" he continued. "A coven is a gathering of witches. That is not the proper word for a group of vixens."

She rolled her eyes. Of course he would go for the literary angle. It figures.

"I demand you use the correct word for it," he pressed on.

"Okay, writer boy, how do you call a group of vixens?" Beckett asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"I don't know, a cluster? A hive?" he shrugged.

"A bunch? A pack?" she fired back, feeling herself grinning even wider.

"A herd!"

They continued throwing suggestions back and forth while Patricia babbled on the stand about how hard it was to plan a wedding. Their banter, however, was interrupted with a thunderous applause. Together, they turned their attention to the podium, where Albert had joined his fiancée and was kissing her chastely on the lips. All around them, the guests went crazy, as if that public display of affection was the most passion-filled exchange they had witnessed in years.

After two days feeling like a spectator of a bad soap opera, Beckett was tired of the drama. She was about to suggest Castle that they go find some food, something that would keep them distracted from Patricia's show, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Kate, can I see your mother's ring?" Castle asked her, urgency in his voice.

"What, why?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

"Then, can I see it?"

Furrowing her brow, she unclasped the chain and let it fall to his outstretched hand.

"Thank you. One thing that I know about this kind of people is that they don't like to share the spotlight," he explained, freeing the ring from its chain.

"Right, so- What are you doing?," she asked, horrified, when Castle fell to one knee in front of her. "Castle, get up. Now."

The people around them noticed started to notice the scene, and a chorus of excited whispers filled the air. Nothing like a good show to keep the people in the Hamptons occupied.

"Castle, don't even think about it," she warned in a quiet, yet murderous tone.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett," he proclaimed in a thunderous manner, completely ignoring her.

"How do you know my middle name?" she asked.

"Shhh! I'm trying to focus here," he muttered, clearly enjoying himself, if his infuriating smirk was anything to go by.

"I'm gonna kill you," she hissed.

He just winked at her, and changed back into a louder tone of voice.

"Every morning I bring you a cup of coffee just so I can see a smile on your face, because you are the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person I've ever met. And I know that we can be extraordinary together. Hell, we already are," he added looking appreciatively at her and wiggling his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. He was unbelievable.

"So, Kate," he continued. "Will you marry me?"

Beckett looked him in the eye, fully intent on saying "no", and opened her mouth to answer him just that.

"Yes," she said instead.

 _Wait, what?_

* * *

Castle was putting the last of their bags in the trunk of his Ferrari when Beckett felt a presence at her side. Finally used to her friend's gift for apparition, she was unsurprised to see Patricia there, with a warm smile.

"I hope you had a good time," the woman said, and after a beat, she continued. "Sorry about earlier, this party has been too stressful, and with Albert's sudden appearance… Anyway, it has been good to see you."

"You too. I hope you and Albert are very happy together."

There was a pause, in which neither of them seemed to know what to say, until both of them took a step forward at the same time, embracing.

"Take care, Kate."

"You too, Trish."

"Give my best to Jim, would you?" Patricia said. "And Kate… I know that you and Castle will be very happy together."

"Trish, we're not really… Well, I guess _now_ we are, but when we came here..."

"I know. You were never a very good actress," she said, and Beckett gaped at her, not knowing what to say. "You really make a cute couple," Patricia told her.

She turned to see Castle chatting animatedly with one of the men in charge of the parking space, and couldn't help the smile that formed on her face.

"Thank you," she said, hugging her old friend one last time.

* * *

Beckett would never have thought that travelling with Castle could be an awkward experience. Unnerving and trying, yes, but never awkward. He was always chatting away, or fiddling with the radio, or humming quietly to himself. Anything to avoid the silence that in that moment was traveling in the car with them.

She had never been good with silences, so she blurted out the thing that was bothering her.

"That proposal was very convincing," she said, and winced the moment the words left her mouth. In the driver's seat, Castle just smiled.

"As was your answer, dear Detective," he replied.

"Hmm, about that…" she started to fidget in her seat, playing with the hem of her shirt and refusing to look Castle in the eye. She had to come up with a way to clear the air between them without turning him down completely. He saved her from the headache with a light chuckle.

"Don't worry, Kate, I'm not going to make you set a date or anything. I know it was fake."

She sighed in relief, and watched how his shoulders deflated at her evident relaxation, his hands clenching at the wheel. He didn't think she regretted the whole thing, did he?

"Not everything," she assured him, but she could see in his posture that he wasn't yet convinced. "Which reminds me, what time will you be picking me up?" she added nonchalantly.

"What? When?" he questioned, clearly confused.

"On Friday. For our first official date," she clarified, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The change in Castle when he heard those words was instantaneous. The light was suddenly back in his eyes, and the grin on his face stretched from ear to ear.

"Friday is a long time away, but I have a lot of planning to do, so it works perfectly. Do you have Saturday free?"

"Yes," she answered, feeling the butterflies taking residence in her stomach at the prospect of what undoubtedly would be a remarkable evening. Castle didn't do anything halfway, so she knew she was in for one hell of a ride.

"Perfect. I'll think of something. Oh, and by the way… see that house over there?," he asked, pointing at a huge property, at least twice the size as Patricia's.

"The one with the white porch?"

"Yep."

"What about it?" she asked.

"That's mine."

Beckett's jaw dropped open while she gazed out of the window at the impressive house.

"We're _so_ coming here this summer," she muttered.

* * *

 _And that's it, folks. Thank you very much to everyone who has read, reviewed and/or followed this story. And I would like to say a special thanks to L (encantadaa), my wonderful beta, for all her patience, help and encouragement._

 _See you in the next one!_


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